Color Me Confused
by FerryBerry
Summary: ON HIATUS. Lingering feelings for Jesse and a budding relationship with Finn. Things just couldn't get more confusing. Until the last person Rachel expects enters the mix.
1. Breakfast and Broken Bones

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**A/N:** Constructive criticism is welcome. I'll try to update as regularly as I can. I hope you all like it.

**Breakfast and Broken Bones**

8:30 in the morning was far too early to expect any human being to wake up; let alone 7:30, when Rachel insisted they all clamber out of bed to ready themselves for Regionals. Apparently if they didn't wake then, the universe would explode. Or…something else. She'd said something about being too tired to perform, Finn was sure. In any case, it was very important that they wake up at that exact time. Thank God Mr. Schuester convinced her that 6:30 was pushing it a little.

Still, Finn was exhausted. Despite Mr. Schuester's 10 o'clock curfew, he and the other boys hadn't actually slept until at least 12. Well, except for Kurt, who—for once—sided with Rachel.

Running on only seven and a half hours of sleep wasn't exactly Finn's strong suit. But at least the hotel's complimentary breakfast selection was huge. And it smelled delicious. All he had to do was not look at Puck overturning the jar of strawberry jam on his waffles and topping it with maple syrup, and he would have enough food in him to push him through the day. Hopefully.

Finn was just about to dig in to his French toast when something moved out of the corner of his eye and he caught Rachel setting a green apple ceremoniously on the table next to him. She shot him a bright smile, smoothed her skirt under her, and sank into her chair.

Finn exchanged a glance with Puck, who looked like he was on the verge of dumping what was left of the grape jam on Rachel's apple.

"That's all you're eating?" Finn prompted, frowning at the tiny apple sitting on the thin little napkin before his…well, she wasn't his girlfriend yet, he supposed. But she would be.

Rachel nodded. "Yes. Have you _seen_ this place's so-called food? Every bit of it that isn't slathered in grease is as dry as toast. Except for the toast, which is surprisingly soft. It's completely unhealthy. Honestly, I should've prepared myself for this possibility. Next year, I'm packing granola bars."

Finn glanced down at his plate piled with French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She had a point about the toast—the butter hadn't actually melted since he put it on. And the French toast did seem to be soaking in juices, although that could've been the mixture of syrup and butter…. He eyed his bacon triumphantly and lifted a piece to offer to her.

"The bacon's not greasy," he said victoriously.

Rachel's nose wrinkled and she leaned back to avoid the crispy meat, but Quinn beat her to an explanation.

"She's vegan, Finn," the blonde said irritably. "Besides which, bacon is _fried_ in grease."

Finn frowned. "Oh." He set the bacon back down, much to Rachel's relief. Then he spied his scrambled eggs and perked up. "You could eat some eggs," he offered eagerly.

Quinn smacked her forehead. Puck sighed.

"Dude, did you not hear the mother-chicken nightmare story?" he asked, shaking his head.

"No, no, it's okay," Rachel cut in, waving her hands dismissively. "You just need a little schooling, is all. I'll find you some articles online about veganism. Oh, and perhaps some pamphlets." She tapped her chin, eyes brightening. "And a Power Point…."

Finn chuckled nervously. "Just promise you won't make a music video about it?"

"No, I've learned my lesson on that one," she replied, nodding rapidly.

"Thank God," Quinn muttered.

Rachel ignored her. "Music videos only lead to angry boys and flying chicken eggs."

He smiled in relief. Puck was digging in to his disgusting mixture of foods, ignoring the rest of the glee club member's grossed-out looks. Quinn was facing studiously away from him, pretending he didn't exist while she spread a thin layer of fat-free cream cheese over a lightly browned bagel. Finn frowned at Rachel's apple again when a few minutes passed by in silence.

"Please tell me you are planning on eating, and you didn't just set it there for show," he teased.

Rachel winked and bumped his shoulder—or, actually, his arm, since she was too short to hit his shoulder—with hers. "Just waiting for you to catch up."

He grinned and took her hand with his free one. She turned her palm up and entwined their fingers and he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest. Quinn rolled her eyes at them.

Finn ignored her sour mood in favor of enjoying his breakfast with his almost-girlfriend, who crunched on her apple when he started in on his eggs. Mr. Schue was finishing his breakfast, so it would soon be time to finish up and head to the auditorium. He chewed a little faster, but paused when he felt Rachel's hand clench around his in a death grip.

He glanced her way and frowned at the sudden whiteness in her complexion, but she didn't look at him. Her eyes were trained on something far on the other side of the room, and Finn's chest tightened when he saw that jerk waiting just inside the room.

Finn caught Puck's eye and knew that he'd seen him, too. He silently communicated his displeasure, and Puck nodded his agreement, grinding his teeth. Quinn, Finn noted, was smirking, though she tried to hide it with her hair. He frowned in confusion, but when Jesse St. James started walking toward them, he shook his head of her.

He locked eyes with Puck instead and nodded. On three, he and Puck stood to face the intruder. Finn shook Rachel's hand loose and, finally, the rest of New Directions noticed what was going on. He caught them simultaneously bristle, but Puck beat them to it. He crossed his arms and blocked Jesse's way to Rachel, aiming a death glare at him.

"This is a members-only party, and I don't think you were invited, Beak Nose."

Quinn snorted into her orange juice, then feigned a cough.

That's when Finn noticed the splint. Jesse's nose was held straight by a silver splint, the white padding peeked out at the bridge, and there was a visible bruise where the splint wasn't covering it. It was so purple it almost looked black. Finn and the rest of them were biting their lips to keep from laughing.

Jesse scowled at them. "I'm here to talk to Rachel."

And then he went to go past Puck, who intercepted him.

"I don't think so, Splinters."

They tussled for a moment before Mr. Schue broke in, shoving them apart. Finn backed Puck, glaring past him at Jesse.

"Hey! Now, calm down," Mr. Schue shouted, shoving Jesse back when he tried to make another move. "There's no need for that." He frowned at Puck. "I thought we settled this a couple weeks ago."

He sneered. "We did. But it looks like St. Wuss here finally got his just desserts anyway."

Santana smirked viciously. "What'd you do? Run into a door?"

They all burst into snickers. Jesse leapt against Mr. Schue's arm again, but apparently their Spanish teacher was pretty strong, because he managed to hold him off.

"That's enough!" Mr. Schue snapped again, shooting a reproving look at Santana. "I mean it." He sighed and turned to face Jesse, who had apparently calmed down enough that he didn't need to be restrained. "Now, Jesse, what is it you want?"

He huffed. "I just came to talk to Rachel. That's it."

Finn glanced down at her, but she was too busy picking at her apple juice-soaked napkin to notice. Mr. Schue turned as well and prodded, "Rachel?"

She bit her lip and looked up at Jesse. Finn retreated to rub her shoulder protectively, directing a warning glare Jesse's way.

"What do you want to talk about?" Rachel asked.

Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet and vulnerable. Finn squeezed her shoulder and chanced a glance at the rest of them. They all looked expectantly between Jesse and Rachel, except for Quinn, who had her eyes trained on the brunette and her mouth set in a deep frown, all humor faded.

"In private," Jesse said, glancing at the glowering glee club members.

Finn expected Rachel to immediately deny him and insist that he talk to her right in front of everybody. That was just Rachel's nature—she didn't mind dramatic scenes; she was comfortable with them, even. But instead she gave a small, barely visible nod and rose.

Jesse's shoulders dropped, tension leaking out, and he turned to gesture her out first. Rachel shot Finn a grim look and he could only stare on in shock as Mr. Schue offered her a supportive smile and she walked out the door with that traitor.

Mr. Schue waited until they were gone before clapping his hands together for attention. Finn exchanged a glance with a frowning Puck and they sank back into their seats slowly. Quinn turned around just as Finn hit his chair, looking pissed at best.

"Okay, everyone. You've got an hour before every single one of you needs to be on that bus," he announced genially, as though nothing just happened. "I want…"

His voice trailed to the back of Finn's mind as the sight of Rachel and Jesse walking together in the parking lot caught his eye. He scowled, wishing he could hear from here exactly what was going on.

XXXXXXXX

Rachel whirled on her heel when they arrived at Jesse's SUV. She'd already seen it a million times—she didn't need the tour. She frowned up at him as he halted a few feet off.

"Make it quick, please," she said shortly, placing her hands on her hips in what she hoped was an intimidating stance. "I'd like to get back to my teammates."

Jesse adjusted his splint with a grimace and she, once again, wondered what on earth happened to his nose. But asking would indicate that she cared. And she didn't. Really.

"I wanted to appeal to you as the only reasonable member of your club, and as my ex-girlfriend, to get your 'teammates'—" he sneered "—to back off."

She frowned in puzzlement. "What are you talking about?"

He gestured to the other side of his SUV. "I'm talking about this."

He stepped around her and to the opposite side of the vehicle, then bent down to examine what she discovered was a thin, long groove along its length. Rachel could only gape. Jesse straightened when she'd been silent too long.

"And this," he added, gesturing to his nose. "I'm not pressing charges, but enough is enough. These games need to stop."

Rachel exhaled, shaking her head. "Jesse, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to go this far and I-I _will_ tell them to just…lay off."

"I appreciate it," he said curtly.

"Just so I know…who did it?" she prompted, steeling herself. Her stomach clenched at a thought. "Finn?" He shook his head, but before he could speak, she tried again. "Noah?"

"No, the blonde girl," Jesse said, obviously trying to remember the name.

Rachel was speechless for the second time today. She hated that. This much shock simply couldn't be good for her right before a performance.

"Brittany?" she asked, aghast at the thought.

"No, the pregnant one. Ferbie, or whatever," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"_Quinn?_"


	2. Conversations and Confounding Companions

**A/N:** I'm so glad everyone's enjoying it. I wrote this chapter like three different times before I came up with this, so I hope the end result is satisfactory. :P Enjoy!

**Conversations and Confounding Companions**

Rachel was still in the parking lot minutes after Jesse's SUV disappeared down the road. She didn't know what to react to first: the shock, the confusion, or the burning curiosity. Presently, she was stuck in the shock and confusion part.

Quinn Fabray had keyed Rachel Berry's ex-boyfriend's car and broken his nose. Quinn Fabray. Ex-president of the celibacy club, ex-captain of the Cheerios, pregnant with Noah's child, sometimes sharp, longtime tormenter of all people freakish—particularly the Freak Queen, Rachel Berry—Quinn freaking Fabray. Something simply wasn't right with this picture.

She couldn't wrap her brain around the idea. So her first thought was that Jesse had to have been mistaken—it couldn't possibly have been Quinn.

But she was the only blonde, pregnant girl in glee club with a last name even remotely close to 'Ferbie.' And Jesse was many things, but he wasn't thick. Or at least not thick enough to make that many mistakes in identifying the person who'd punched him in the face.

But Quinn hated her. There was no way she would do something as outrageously protective as key his car and break his nose. Not for Rachel. She wouldn't squash a bug for Rachel.

But if Quinn hadn't done it for her, why had she done it? Was she just defending the club's honor as a whole? That didn't make any sense, though. Quinn certainly didn't treat her any differently than she used to—except perhaps to ignore her more often and keep her more unflattering drawings restricted to her notebooks—but if she was defending the entire club, wouldn't she have targeted more members of Vocal Adrenaline, rather than just Jesse?

Rachel's head was really starting to hurt. She just couldn't figure it out. Quinn couldn't possibly have had a personal agenda with Jesse, could she? Jesse hadn't even remembered her name—well, at least not properly. Maybe Quinn had had an unrequited crush on him.

Rachel shook her head immediately, filled with disgust at the very idea. She could hardly stomach the mental image of the two of them entwined. Before the contents of her belly could roil to the point where she needed to bolt to the nearest toilet, her thoughts were mercifully interrupted.

"Hey."

She jumped and glanced up to find that the soft voice belonged to none other than Tina, who waved timidly and came to lean against the bus beside her. Rachel relaxed a little. Tina was nice and safe and there were no confusing thoughts attached to her presence; she felt soothed by the company of the quiet girl.

"Are you okay?" she asked eventually. Apparently Rachel was silent for a moment too long, because she started rambling nervously, "Mr. Schuester wanted to come and check to see if you were, but then Mercedes pointed out it would probably be best if one of us girls came instead, since he's not so good at the whole understanding teenage girls thing, and I got voted in because…because…."

_No one else wanted to_, Rachel finished miserably.

"Well, we thought anyone else would just upset you more," Tina said instead. She smiled a little when Rachel glanced at her in surprise. "Finn wanted to come, too, but he's still pretty upset about Jesse showing up at all, so we made him wait until he calms down."

Rachel nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I…" she sighed, "I don't think I could handle him just now. Not on top of…everything."

Tina nodded her understanding. They were silent for a few moments more.

Quinn Fabray. It just wasn't possible. Was it?

"So…do you want to…you know, talk about it?" Tina prompted.

Rachel jumped again, then sighed. "I-I think I need to…I need to talk to Quinn." It sounded weird, even to her own ears. Her tongue felt thick and her mouth fuzzy when she said it, like it was the most unnatural thing she'd ever said. All the same, she nodded when she repeated it in her head. "Yeah…I need to talk to her."

It was absolutely the only way she would get any answers. That is, if Quinn would deign to speak to her.

"O-okay," Tina said uncertainly, looking startled and…well, a little hurt.

"Not that I don't appreciate it or that I don't want to talk about it with you," Rachel said hurriedly. She hated the thought of hurting the already shy girl's feelings. "I do, really. It's just…I'm very confused right now and I need…I think I need to talk to Quinn before I can talk about…_it_ with anyone." It occurred to her then that Regionals were, in fact, being held later on that day. She couldn't believe she'd let thinking about Quinn make her forget that. "Although I'm not even sure if talking to her right this minute is a good idea." She rubbed her forehead, trying to push out the pain in her head.

Tina nodded. "Okay, well…why don't you tell me what you need to talk to Quinn about, and we can try to figure out how crucial it is?"

That made sense to Rachel. She cleared her throat in preparation. Now…how to explain it….

"She broke Jesse's nose."

It was out before she could stop it, and it was only when she saw Tina's shocked expression that it truly sunk in that she'd said it. She'd admitted it out loud. Quinn Fabray broke Jesse's nose. At least Tina was sharing in Rachel's utter astonishment.

After a lot of gaping, she cleared her throat, too. "Yeah, I think maybe you need to talk to Quinn now."

XXXXXX

Mercedes informed Rachel that Quinn was heading to their room take care of a few last minute details before the group left for the auditorium. Everyone had seemed confused by Rachel's rather sudden and urgent need to speak with Quinn, but she'd sworn Tina to silence until she could get this worked out with the capricious blonde. They weren't going to get an explanation until she did. Fortunately, Finn had been in his room, too, or else she'd have had to deal with his confusion on top of hers, and she just didn't think she could at the moment.

Rachel rounded the corner and hurried her pace when she spied blonde hair ahead. Even pregnant, Quinn was quicker than her. All her years as a Cheerio had evidently paid off. Rachel was currently wishing she spent more time on her elliptical machine. Granted, she'd just mounted a flight of stairs, but it shouldn't be this difficult to keep up with Quinn while she was carrying a heavy load.

"Quinn!" she blurted, panting a bit.

Quinn tossed a glance over her shoulder that automatically went from neutral to annoyed upon seeing Rachel trailing her. She faced forward again, but Rachel was relieved when she slowed her pace a bit.

"What do you want, Berry?" Quinn called back, sounding bored.

"Would you please stop?" she gasped. "I need to talk to you."

The blonde halted unexpectedly and turned on her heel, offering Rachel nothing more than that infamous scowl she seemed to reserve just for moments like these. Rachel slowed and stopped a few feet away, trying to gather both her breath and her thoughts.

Looking at Quinn only made the tornado of thoughts in Rachel's head spin faster. There was no way Quinn had done that for her. No way in hell. But if she had…the idea warmed Rachel's middle, though she had no clue why. Still, it was exciting. And impossible. She wanted a glass of water and some ibuprofen.

Quinn was looking impatient, so Rachel tried her best to push aside her circular thoughts and get back down to business. She would have to ask Quinn straight out. The worst that would happen is Quinn would think she was a freak, refute the accusation in the most insulting way possible, and laugh at her. So, really, no harm done.

"Jesse told me what happened," she said at last. She licked her suddenly dry lips and decided to rephrase when Quinn's brow quirked. "Or…what you did, or something. He wasn't actually clear on the details. Not that I expect him to explain every bit of his life to me now that we're no longer together, but knowing the basics of what transpired may have been helpful in giving me some sort of context to work with. For all I know, he provoked you."

For a millisecond, Quinn's eyes looked softer and the corners of her mouth loosened, but she was back to normal before Rachel could properly take in the change in expression—leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined it.

"And what exactly did St. Flake tell you I did?" she inquired calmly, as though she couldn't care less.

It shook Rachel's confidence a bit, but she regrouped admirably.

"That you were the one who broke his nose and keyed his car," she said, examining her for signs of reaction. Quinn only stared, and Rachel wilted a bit. "Did you?"

She needed to hear it from her. She wanted her to admit it.

The blonde promptly laughed and turned to walk back down the hallway. Rachel started. Well, that seemed entirely unfair. She couldn't just give a non-response like that and expect to be able to waltz away. Rachel expected answers. She steeled her resolve and stomped after her.

"Well, did you?" she called, able to keep the pace better now that she'd had a brief rest.

"What do you think, Ape Arms?" Quinn retorted shortly.

She stopped and pulled a key card out of her pocket, redirecting her focus to whatever business she needed to attend to in the room. Rachel's stomach tightened at this response. She paused, trying to process it before she barreled on after the blonde. She smacked the door away when it tried to swing shut on her.

"You did, didn't you?" she demanded, ignoring the sound of the door slamming shut behind her.

Quinn, in turn, ignored her in favor of making up the beds and gathering the last of her things into her suitcase for the ride home. Rachel stared at her, trying to comprehend this enigma of a woman's thought process. She'd keyed Jesse's car, broke his nose, and now that Rachel was questioning her on it, she refused to acknowledge she'd done anything at all—for Rachel or otherwise.

Quinn shut her suitcase and plopped on the edge of the bed, moving on to filling out the comment card the hotel left on the nightstand. Rachel had forgotten how difficult it was to interact with Quinn for such a long time. She always ended up flustered, intimidated, and aggravated. She pushed the feelings aside and gathered her courage.

"Why did you do it?" Rachel winced when she heard the accusatory tone in her voice. She hadn't meant to be confrontational, but part of her couldn't help feeling defensive. After all, the last time she'd trusted Quinn, there was an ulterior motive the size of Alaska underneath all of her charming. Besides, being completely disregarded didn't exactly bring out the champion in Rachel.

The blonde glanced up, frowning at her. "For glee," she said, as though it should be obvious.

* * *

Mr. Schuester passed out parts to each member, a delighted glint in his eyes. Quinn looked on skeptically while the rest of the club pored over their parts eagerly. She accepted her sheet from him with a scowl of disapproval. He didn't seem to notice, instead heading to front of the room to start instructing.

Quinn let her gaze travel to the head of the paper, tuning out what she was sure would be an exciting five minutes of Mercedes and Kurt arguing for better parts. '_Give Up the Funk_.'

"We're going to sing a song at them?" she blurted objectionably. "_That's_ our revenge?"

Mr. Schue looked too surprised at her exclamation to respond at first. Kurt did it for him.

"Of course. It's the perfect payback," he said, sounding pleased.

"They put us in a funk trying to prove we can't beat them," Mercedes added. "Now we can do the same thing showing them all _they_ can't do. The lifeless robots."

Kurt and Mercedes exchanged a grin and Quinn rolled her eyes. Mr. Schue was beaming.

"Exactly. Music is the perfect way to express how you feel," he gushed—again, "without adding fuel to the fire. You'll see, Quinn. It'll be fantastic."

He went back to pretending everyone was in favor of this. Quinn scowled. Yeah, Vocal Adrenaline was definitely going to get theirs if they sang a song at them. A bouncy song, at that. She shook her head. Something _had_ to be done.

* * *

Rachel frowned at Quinn for a moment. The blonde waited on the bed, brow quirked at her again.

At length, Rachel sighed. "That still doesn't explain why you chose to target Jesse, in particular."

"He's their leader, and I'm pregnant. If you hadn't noticed, I don't have the easiest time getting around anymore," she retorted derisively.

"Well then, why did you do it alone?" she asked pointedly. "I'm sure Noah would've been more than willing to help."

She huffed, aggravated. "Why do you even care? So I broke your ex-boyfriend's nose. You should be jumping for joy into Finn's arms."

Rachel ignored the subsequent sneer in favor of developing an answer. "I care because I don't get it. For most of our acquaintance, you've made it your personal duty to make my life as miserable as it could possibly get. And even when you joined glee and we developed an unspoken truce, well…mostly you've just ignored me." Quinn looked down, avoiding her eyes. "Even when I offered my friendship. So I don't understand what made you do this. I need you to explain it to me."

Quinn met her eyes again, giving her that all-too familiar steely scowl that told Rachel she wasn't going to get any farther. Quinn had done it for glee, and she was supposed to accept that. For some reason, she couldn't make it fit in her head. Something was off about this.

Rachel sighed. "Will you at least tell me what happened?"

The blonde's lips parted, just enough for Rachel to notice. She waited on tenterhooks, heart beating a little faster, breaths almost stopping altogether, and every fiber was focused on two perfect pink lips. It felt like hours before Quinn closed them, looking away again, and Rachel immediately sagged. She gaped at Quinn in exasperation and confusion in equal measures before letting out a frustrated groan and executing a dramatic exit.

XXXXXX

Quinn breathed a sigh of relief when the door slammed behind the tempestuous brunette. That had been a little too close for comfort. Damn St. Weasel and his big mouth. If he had just kept his whining to himself, Rachel would never have found out, and they all could've gone on with their lives as usual. Rachel may have wondered about the splint at Regionals, but it wasn't as though she would _initiate_ a conversation with Jesse St. Jackass.

Although, after today, Quinn had to wonder if that was true. She never thought Rachel would agree to speak with St. Lucifer in private after what he did to her. But evidently the girl was even more confused than Quinn originally thought. And all this added confusion could've been avoided if St. Nuisance had just kept his mouth _shut_.

But no, he had to tattle on her, and now Rachel was more confused than ever. Not to mention, closer to the truth than she needed to be at the moment. Lovely. Just lovely.

Quinn felt like hitting him all over again.

* * *

St. Scum flipped his keys around his index finger, whistling to himself as he strode out to his car. Carmel's campus was quiet, and all of the other Vocal Adrenaline members had left several minutes earlier. He stopped short when he spied the lengthy scratch spanning the side of his black SUV, eyes going wide.

"What the—" He sped to his car and bent to examine the damage, fist clenching around his keys while he ran his fingertips over the groove. And just as he was about to look around for the perpetrator, a full blast of water hit him in the side of the head, drenching both his vehicle and his expensive-looking t-shirt.

He yelped and held out a hand to deflect the spray while Quinn stood at the end of the hose, laughing madly at the sight of the Carmel Royalty getting his at last. He cursed when he dropped his keys and ultimately ended up slipping in the now-muddy drive, caking his jeans. The combination of hilarity and the baby deciding to use her bladder as a squeeze toy at that moment made her desperate to find a bathroom.

Quinn shut off the water supply to save herself the trip, though she was still giggling riotously. St. James scrambled to his feet, rubbing water out of his eyes and trying to swipe the mud off his jeans—which, of course, only rubbed it in all the more. He picked up his keys and glared at Quinn.

"What the hell was that?" he roared, stomping over furiously.

"Just a little payback," she replied, grinning widely.

"For what? Looking at my car?" he snarled, gesturing wildly back at his damaged SUV.

She shrugged gracefully. "It could've been worse. I could've egged you."

St. James whipped around, looking ready to tear her to shreds—and not just with words—but then he froze, eyes narrowing on her. Quinn crossed her arms protectively about the precious cargo in her belly, returning his glare with one of her own. Recognition lit his eyes.

"You…you're the one who calls Rachel 'Man Hands.'" He sneered, breathing heavily. "What are you doing here?"

"Telling you to leave Rachel alone," she snapped, scowling at him now. "If you do anything to her again, I'll do worse than scratch your car."

Suddenly, he was grinning, and then laughing, maniacally. As though this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Quinn wanted to kick him in the shin, but she was afraid if she tried she'd lose her balance and fall over. She couldn't wait until she wasn't pregnant anymore—she'd pound the punk.

"This is just too perfect!" he exclaimed, still chuckling. His gaze turned menacing, the way Quinn knew hers had quite often before she joined glee. "The pregnant girl is playing the knight in shining armor for the clingy little damsel."

Quinn bristled, but it turned into a flinch when he flung the mud from his keys in her face and onto her white shirt. He grinned meanly and she fumed.

"Enjoy being crushed by your egotist—"

CRACK.

"_OW_! Son of a—"

St. James bent at the waist, holding his nose and keening in pain. Quinn, in the meantime, shook her hand to loosen it, wincing. She would be lucky if she hadn't fractured anything. Still, it was worth it just to see that obnoxious grin of his evaporate.

She nodded to herself. She'd had enough fun. It was definitely time to go catch her bus. She brushed past him, heading for the bus stop.

"I'll sue you for assault and battery, you bitch!" St. Pansy snarled after her, yelping again when he tried to straighten his nose.

"Have fun with that," Quinn said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm sure your lack of evidence will greatly impress the judge." And then she finally made her escape.

* * *

A satisfied smile spread across Quinn's cheeks and she rubbed her stomach when the baby kicked. _That was a good day, wasn't it, baby?_ she thought fondly, and the baby kicked again.

She jumped when the door opened, half-expecting Rachel to come storming back in with a fresh thirst for answers. And possibly a ten-page essay explaining why Quinn should confess all. She was relieved when Mercedes popped her head in.

"Hey, you ready, girl?" she asked. "We're all about to get on the bus."

Quinn pushed herself to her feet.

XXXXXX

"Hey, are you all right? I wanted to check on you right away, but Quinn made me go back to my room and pack," Finn said crossly as he helped Rachel with her coat.

She froze again, tensing at the sound of the name. Which was quite a feat, considering how tense she already was. He pulled her spring jacket on the rest of the way and massaged her shoulders when he felt how stiff she'd become.

"You okay?" he prompted, and bent to catch her eye.

Rachel snapped out of it and shrugged his hands off as surreptitiously as possible. He didn't seem to notice, only smiling when she glanced up at him.

"Fine," she assured him, and started walking toward the bus.

It wasn't that Rachel didn't like Finn—far from it. She liked him so much it made her want to cry, although not as much as it used to. But she was still reeling from Jesse's presence and the feelings that he stirred up in her, not to mention the growing confusion she was feeling when it came to Quinn. She needed space.

Tina suddenly appeared at her side and Rachel hurried her pace so that Finn wouldn't overhear them.

"Hey. Did you talk to her?" Tina asked quietly, getting the hint. Rachel nodded and the girl prompted quickly, "What'd you find out?"

Rachel heaved a sigh and scanned the group for the blonde head of hair. Her eyes passed over Santana and Brittany cuddling and Artie and the boys talking animatedly, and finally found Quinn leaning in to hear something Mercedes was saying, Puck right on her heels. Quinn _freaking_ Fabray.

When had she become so hard to understand? It used to be so simple. Quinn didn't care for her, then Rachel met Finn, and Quinn hated her and drew pornographic pictures of her in the girl's bathroom. That was it.

Now Quinn wouldn't give her a simple answer as to why she'd arbitrarily decided it was a fabulous idea to break Rachel's ex-boyfriend's nose.

Tina was still watching her expectantly, so Rachel tore her eyes from the frustrating blonde and said, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."


	3. A Performance and a Pregnancy

**A/N:** I'm really nervous about this one, so please let me know if it's all right. Your reviews have been great. Thank you so much.

**A Performance and a Pregnancy**

Everyone had found a sense of equilibrium by the time they arrived at the auditorium. They were still nervous, but it had been reduced to a small fraction compared to the excitement and confidence they were feeling. Even Rachel was feeling calmer. Knowing there was a performance ahead helped her focus and kept her mind away from Quinn, and the tornado in her head was finally starting to slow down.

It wasn't until the announcer started introducing the judges that the anxiety built again, making Noah pace restlessly and Tina's knee bounce, until Artie put his hand on it. When the name Sue Sylvester came over the speaker, their agitation grew, although Mike and Matt lessened the tension by giving everyone two thumbs down and sticking their tongues out.

When the name of the first glee club was announced, Santana said, "Hm. I should've thought of blowing the judges" and everyone burst into laughter. But it only took the sound of Aural Intensity's first song to aggravate them again and Noah growled indignantly.

"A mash-up of Olivia Newton-John and Josh Groban. Are you _kidding_ me?" he snapped, and any lightness they'd been feeling was immediately doused by his irritation. "Somebody tipped them off about the judges!"

No one would meet his eyes and Finn ducked his head when Rachel looked to him. So much for his speech the other day about keeping everyone motivated. She hurried to do the job herself.

"Guys, we can't get distracted by what the other teams are doing," she said sternly.

"We just gotta…keep our heads in the game and focus," Finn said at last. He looked a little ill, and he started pacing, too.

Rachel sighed and turned to the speaker, straining on the tips of her toes to try and flick it off. On occasion, Rachel was proud to be short. She didn't hit her head as easily as other people and she could fit into small spaces better—it was convenient. This was not one of those times.

"Even if we know we can't win?" Santana asked skeptically.

A pale arm appeared in Rachel's peripheral view and the music was cut short.

"Yes," Mr. Schuester said firmly.

Rachel huffed and glanced up to thank him, but froze when she found Quinn standing there instead of their glee club coach. She couldn't help but gape at the taller girl, whose eyes were softer again, like earlier that day at the hotel. Only this time they stayed that way long enough for Rachel to _know_ she couldn't have imagined the little smile perking up the corners of Quinn's faultless lips.

Rachel peered into her eyes, trying to figure out what she was seeing in them, but Quinn shut down as soon as she caught the intrusion. The scowl was back and Rachel averted her gaze, trying not to show the hurt. She shouldn't feel so dejected. Like she was really expecting Quinn Fabray to let her past that steely exterior? Not in this lifetime.

_You have a performance to think about. Get back in the game_, she scolded herself. She didn't know why she felt she needed to spend so much time thinking about Quinn anyway.

"If this is only about winning for you guys, then I owe you all an apology," Mr. Schuester continued frankly, and Rachel nearly leapt out of her skin when he appeared behind Quinn, ushering them toward the rest of the group. "Because I've failed you, and we should just all go home, because it means we've already lost."

Quinn plopped into the chair next to Kurt and Rachel sank down into the empty spot next to Santana and bit her lip, redirecting her attention to what Mr. Schue was saying.

"Besides, we've got something that the other groups don't," he said intently, looking around at all of them seriously.

"What?" Artie asked at last.

Mr. Schue whipped around. "Finn's dancing!"

Finn smiled his adorably dopey smile when everyone started laughing—even Noah loosened up enough to chuckle—but when Brittany poked him, he seemed to get the joke and frowned.

"Now let's get out there!" Mr. Schuester said excitedly, trying to pump them all up. "We've got two minutes. Aural Intensity's almost finished. Bring it in."

Rachel put her hand in with the rest of them, still privately grinning at their coach's joke. The power circle helped swing her mind back into complete focus and she started to feel the hum of nervous excitement she always did before a performance. This was going to be their best yet; she could just feel it.

XXXXXX

Rachel adjusted her headband one more time and took deep, cleansing breaths. Her fingers were tingling so badly she could barely feel them. She kept her attention on practicing pushing her diaphragm in and out, preparing herself for the effort her vocal cords and lungs would have to employ during this performance.

She glanced over at Finn briefly. He was adjusting his tie, but then he met her gaze and something in his eyes changed. He looked determined. She came to meet him, smiling a little nervously.

"Break a leg?" she offered quietly.

"I love you."

She was so shocked she couldn't say anything. Finn looked pleased with himself, but she wanted to slap him a little bit. She had just managed to erase all of the confusing thoughts from her mind, shoving them aside to be dealt with later. All that mattered right now was doing the best she could alongside her fellow glee club members. And now Finn had just added a grenade to the mess.

All of the aggravation she felt melted away when he gave her a little smile and walked back to his spot. He'd meant it when he said it, and he hadn't expected anything back from her. Besides, she should be pleased. Finn finally loved her and he could finally admit it out loud. She let out a little breath of relief, moved back to her spot, and smiled back at him when he smiled at her as the notes of '_Faithfully_' started playing.

Not for the first time, Rachel was grateful for the spotlight. It was one thing performing in front of her fellow glee clubbers, or even posting one of her videos on MySpace—it was completely different when all those eyes in the dark auditorium turned to her. The spotlight blurred them out and she could concentrate on matching Finn's voice without tiring her voice out before she had to hit the high notes of the song.

She was buzzed before a performance, but when the curtain came up and the rest of New Directions backed them up, the hum turned into an explosion of energy washing over her and spreading goose bumps over her arms. They sounded perfect! It pushed her to try harder and the result was amazing—it felt even better than '_Don't Rain on My Parade_', and she was convinced it was because her friends were there, supporting her with the harmony of their voices.

Finn offered his hand to her when the number ended and Rachel hesitated for a fraction of a second. She didn't dwell on the pause, because they had to show unity in front of the audience, so she took it anyway and stepped into her place amongst her companions.

The brief silence before the jolt of '_Any Way You Want It_' refreshed her energy and nearly doubled it. It was perfection—like all the best parts of their rehearsals had been mashed-up to give the audience the most superb view of New Directions. Even when Rachel had to sidle up closer to Quinn to lead the girls in '_Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'_,' she never faltered. Her mind was locked down on their performance, and the only thought that came with glancing back at the blonde was how wonderfully she was doing, especially for being pregnant.

Noah was at his best and Rachel couldn't wait to hear him sing his part in '_Don't Stop Believin'_.' Brittany's dancing was better than ever. It made her wonder if they were all feeling the pounding energy she was, heart thumping with the beat. Rachel hoped someone was taping this, because she wanted to see everyone in all their glory, moving together like clockwork.

And then it was time for '_Don't Stop Believin'_.' She shared a nostalgic grin with Tina as she turned to sing her opening lines and then moved back in among the group. Santana sounded even better than Rachel on the lines she'd been given—not that she would ever admit this to the cheerleader. They all fell in together and Mercedes 'the Power House' Jones belted out her notes with a precision Rachel adored in the other diva. The audience was right there with them, clapping along to the beat and screaming their approval. It was so exhilarating Rachel almost forgot to breathe.

The applause after they finished was earsplitting and Rachel exchanged grins with her teammates, who looked just as flushed, but thrilled, as she felt. Finn tugged her into a hug and she stumbled into his arms, too pumped to care that she, once again, hesitated before she grabbed onto him.

XXXXXX

Everyone was practically racing to the dressing room to get changed, so adrenaline pumped they didn't even realize how rowdy they were being. Quinn clambered after them and kept her arm protectively around her stomach, grinning with them while her baby kicked like crazy, as though she could feel the excitement, too.

"We got second place in the bag!" she heard Tina exclaim.

"Screw that, we are gonna _win_ this!" Rachel shot back intensely, and Quinn grinned a little wider at the vigor evident in her voice. Her excitement seemed to wipe out all of her usual eloquence.

As fun as that performance was, Quinn was ready to be out of her costume and get into some comfy pants. Maybe she'd enjoy the dressy costumes more when she wasn't pregnant, but they were just plain binding at the moment. She raced down the stairs after them, eager to celebrate with her friends, when a painfully familiar voice sent such a bolt of shock through her that she completely froze.

"Quinnie," her mother said desperately. She was grinning happily.

Quinn stared at her. She couldn't seem to do anything else. When she finally spoke, it was softer than she'd intended. "Mom."

Her mother looked on the verge of tears, and Quinn fought back an eager smile. She couldn't believe how excited she was to see her mom, but she batted the feeling down hastily when she remembered that she'd been kicked out of her house and Mom hadn't done a thing to stop it. There had to be something very wrong if she was finally coming to see her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked warily, very aware of her club mates filtering in past her. "Is Dad okay?"

Mom met her gaze, ignoring the latter question. "I came to hear you sing." She smiled that happy smile again.

Quinn glanced into the dressing room, growing more and more uncomfortable with this whole situation. She couldn't believe she was having such an embarrassingly emotional moment right in front of them. Rachel was digging through her suitcase for those ridiculous knee-high socks. Mercedes offered Quinn a concerned glance and she swallowed, facing her mom again.

"You were _wonderful_. I-I'm so sorry I missed all the other times you performed. Were there a lot?" She looked panicked at the thought. Quinn could only stare some more. "I left your father," Mom said suddenly.

And Quinn couldn't even properly process the words that were coming out of her mom's mouth from then on because something happened then that wasn't supposed to. All of her emotions whirled around her at once, so rapidly she couldn't find one to latch onto. She was too dizzy with adrenaline and embarrassment and shock. She couldn't hear her mother until she gave her an inquiring, anxious look.

"Oh, sweetie, say something," she begged. And Quinn knew if she didn't, her mother would burst into tears right then and there.

So she said, "My water just broke."

Her mother's face cleared. "What?"

Before Quinn could repeat herself, she was hit with a pain so intense it made her knees buckle and she cried out, and her mom was there to catch her and someone took her other hand and helped lift her from the floor. Her arm was slung over a strong set of shoulders and Quinn realized it was Rachel, who had been closest to the door when she last looked. Quinn clung to the hand still holding hers and nearly sobbed with relief that Rachel was right there—along with her mom—to help her through this.

"We'll get her on the bus right away," Mr. Schue was saying urgently. "The hospital is only a couple blocks away. Come on."

Quinn anchored herself to her mother and Rachel as she was bustled through the halls, letting them guide her and focusing on the pain instead. She heard the rest of New Directions hurrying along behind them and might've smiled gratefully at them for their support if she hadn't been in such horrible pain.

"Deep breaths, Quinnie," Mom said soothingly. "It's going to be fine. We're almost to the bus."

"It hurts," she groaned through her teeth.

"I know, sweetie," she sympathized, stroking her hair back from her forehead.

Rachel ducked out from under her arm when they reached the bus, but Quinn refused to let go of her hand, even as she followed her mother up the steps. Under normal circumstances, she would've thought more about how this would affect Rachel. But when she was trying to have a baby, everyone else's emotions be damned. She needed Rachel, and she wasn't letting go.

Rachel didn't protest, only sliding into the bus seat and helping Quinn ease down onto it next to her. Tina and Artie had rushed ahead with Mr. Schue to load him onto the bus before they got there, and the rest of the club joined them in the seats around Quinn. Puck slid in right behind them, staying close.

"Remember your breathing, baby," Mom said gently, holding her hand and stroking her hair.

The motion was relaxing, but it didn't alleviate the pain when another contraction came along of course. Quinn bit her teeth together as hard as she could and screamed against her lips, leaning hard into Rachel, who let her squeeze her hand as hard as she needed without even whimpering. Quinn sagged against her when it ended, panting and listening to the racing below her ear. She was pretty sure Rachel's heart wasn't supposed to be beating that fast.

But she didn't have much time to dwell, because soon after making this observation, she was screaming through her bared teeth again.

XXXXXX

Rachel was pretty sure her heart wasn't supposed to be beating this fast. But since the very second she heard Quinn cry out in agony, her heart had been pumping fiercely and she was panicking so horribly she was sure everyone could see it. She hated seeing Quinn in this much pain.

Mrs. Fabray seemed to know what she was doing. She dabbed at Quinn's forehead and kept coaching her on her breathing, stroking her hair, and Rachel was bursting with a million questions. Was she going to be okay? Was this amount of pain normal? What if she had the baby on the bus? What else could she do to help?

Blurting out a million questions didn't seem like such a good idea while Quinn was suffering like this, though, so Rachel kept her mouth shut and let her lean on her when she needed to and hold her hand as long as she wanted to. The blonde was gripping it so tightly her fingers were stark white, but Rachel didn't even feel it. All she knew was that she wasn't letting go.

"Mommy, it hurts so bad," Quinn whimpered, her breath hot on Rachel's collarbone. Her forehead was so sticky against the brunette's neck she was a little afraid they wouldn't be able to pull apart.

"I know, sweetie, but you're doing wonderfully," Mrs. Fabray assured her lovingly, and Rachel felt a little pang of longing at hearing the motherly voice.

Her attention snapped back to Quinn when she started her Lamaze breathing again.

"Quinnie, do you remember the time you scraped your knee and your dad told you not to cry while we were in church?" Mrs. Fabray prompted gently, rubbing her daughter's arm.

Quinn nodded rapidly, hair bumping lightly against Rachel's chin.

"This isn't one of those times," she concluded. "You scream as much as you need."

That was all the prompting Quinn needed. She let out a shout of pain, opening her mouth for the first time since the first contraction hit her.

"If you listened to Puck's Mario Brothers lectures, you can do this, Quinn," Mercedes called.

"Hey!" Noah exclaimed, offended.

Quinn started shaking and Rachel was afraid she was crying, but then she heard a little chuckle escape.

"Don't…don't make me laugh," she gasped, giggling.

"Mario Brothers changed the landscape of video games for—" Noah began defensively.

"I said she could listen to your lectures or have a baby," Mercedes cut in. "She can't do both."

"It'll kill her," Santana added nonchalantly.

"Do you think it'll be a puppy?" Brittany asked.

Quinn was laughing so hard that Rachel couldn't help but grin, too.

"What should we do?" Finn asked suddenly, sounding panicked. "Should we sing? Th-that'll make her feel better, right?"

Kurt huffed, and Rachel was surprised to find that his annoyance was directed at Finn.

"No, Julie Andrews. She's trying to push a _person_ out of her," he said superiorly. "I don't think singing is going to help in this situation."

Quinn whimpered at this and Rachel unconsciously rubbed her back, clearing her throat in order to retrieve her authoritative voice.

"Not helping, guys," she said sternly.

They mumbled sheepishly and Rachel nodded to herself, satisfied. Quinn had leaned back against the seat while Mrs. Fabray wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. The younger Fabray smiled at Rachel thankfully, and the brunette was so taken aback she hardly realized it when the bus squealed to a stop.

"We're here, guys, let's go," Mr. Schue said, shoving open the door and rushing to help Artie off the bus.

Rachel kept her hand wrapped around Quinn's as they hurried off the bus, and she swung Quinn's arm around her shoulders again while they rushed to the emergency room doors. Quinn moaned and started to lag behind.

"It's okay, baby," Mrs. Fabray coaxed.

"Just a few more steps, Quinn," Rachel assured her, and Quinn braced herself, gripping Rachel's hand like she never wanted to let it go.

They managed the last few steps into the hospital and Rachel snatched the first wheelchair she spotted. Quinn dropped into it gratefully and groaned, never releasing their hands. Noah was still on their tails and he wheeled her forward since both Mrs. Fabray and Rachel were a little busy. Mrs. Fabray accosted the first orderly she could find.

"My daughter is having a baby," she said urgently.

The woman gestured them through. "Right this way, please."

"I'm never talking to you again, Puck, _ever_!" Quinn hissed. And if the circumstances had been different, Rachel might've laughed at the petulant way she said it.

Just as they were about to go through the double doors where the rest of New Directions would no longer be able to trail them, Quinn squeaked out, "_Wait_! Wait!"

Noah reacted quickly and came to a halt, and Quinn briefly released her mother's hand to grab Mercedes's, who was just behind them. "I want Mercedes with me, too," she panted.

Mercedes looked like she might cry. Rachel exchanged a glance with Noah and he pushed forward. Rachel swung open the left door and—reluctantly—simultaneously released Quinn's hand. They went through and Quinn whipped around, looking like she might tell them to stop again, but another contraction hit her and she cried out.

Rachel watched through the little glass window as they wheeled Quinn into a room and disappeared from sight. For some reason she couldn't understand, Rachel's lips began to tremble and she stiffened the upper one, trying to keep calm in front of everyone when inside she was a jumbled mass of nerves.

Mr. Schuester patted her shoulder comfortingly and guided her back to the waiting area, where her knees promptly buckled and all the energy that had been going into keeping herself standing and strong for Quinn washed out of her unexpectedly and she started shaking. Finn wrapped her in his arms, hiding her breakdown from everyone else, and she was thankful, but she still grabbed Tina's hand as soon as the girl sat down next to her.

For one of the first times in Rachel's life, she was downright terrified. And she still had no idea why.


	4. Moments with Mothers

**A/N:** Thanks, everyone! A few people mentioned Rachel not going into the delivery room. I assure you you'll get more of an explanation for that soon. And I will make it up to you, promise!

**Moments with Mothers**

It was a half an hour later. Rachel had long since abandoned Finn where he sat fidgeting with his tie in one of the waiting room chairs. After the initial breakdown and release, the tension gradually rebuilt until she was coiled so tight she couldn't even sit still. Now she was pacing intently, wringing her hands and shooting desperate glances at the double doors where Quinn had disappeared.

Kurt and Brittany tracked her movements—likely out of a lack of anything better to do; Santana flipped through the magazines left on the corner tables, picking up decorating tips from the looks of it. Mr. Schuester sat next to Finn, tapping his foot to a beat only he could hear. Tina sighed and leaned forward on her elbows to whisper with Artie.

Rachel ignored them all. Right now she just wanted to know what was taking so long. She knew birth wasn't exactly quick and easy, but she couldn't help her impatience. She wanted to know what was happening and if Quinn and the baby were okay. A year ago—or, hell, a _week_ ago—if someone had told her she would be worrying so much about Quinn Fabray that she couldn't think straight, she'd have laughed until she fell down.

Even if there had been that one time Quinn fell during rehearsal and Rachel's heart leapt into her throat. But that was just because she'd been startled.

Rachel glanced at the clock. A whole minute had passed. She huffed and resumed her pacing, silently reassuring herself that Mrs. Fabray was with Quinn and she knew what she was doing. And so did the doctors and nurses who were with her. So why didn't she feel any better?

"Artie and I are going to go get snacks," Tina said suddenly.

Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin, which made Finn jump, too. He smiled at her when she glanced down, but she barely noticed, and soon she was back to pacing furiously while everyone added their orders to Tina and Artie's list. What was taking so long? If even one nurse came through those doors, she was going to stalk her until she gave her an update on Quinn's condition, she decided.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Rachel—"

She whipped around, sucking in air in preparation to demand answers of whoever was bothering her. She sighed when she only found Tina smiling cautiously at her. Rachel took a deep breath and swallowed, trying to compose herself when she noticed that everyone was staring at her. Curiously. Except for Finn, who was still smiling his adorable dopey smile that she was so fond of.

"Do you want anything?" Tina prompted softly, as though to an injured animal.

Rachel shook her head rapidly. She couldn't have eaten anything if she tried.

"No. No, thank you."

Tina nodded and turned to wheel Artie down the hallway to the vending machines. Rachel tossed a glance at the rest of New Directions, and they all quickly looked away. Except for Finn, who offered his hand to her. She smiled at him and took it without hesitation this time, squeezing him appreciatively. He was such a good friend. She was so taken aback by the thought that she released his hand and started pacing again.

Rachel tapped her thumbs on her sides and then wrung her hands, glancing at the clock again. Only another minute had passed. She was going to explode if she had to wait much longer.

"Rachel, do you want to sit down?" Mr. Schuester asked, in that same voice Tina had used.

She glanced at them again. Why were they treating her like a two year old? And why were they all staring at her? They didn't need to be staring. Everyone else was just as nervous as she was. Tina and Artie hadn't been able to sit idly; Mr. Schuester's foot was bouncing enough to break through the floor; Finn's tie looked like a dog had been using it as a chew toy. Even Santana, Kurt, and Brittany had glanced at the clock a couple times.

Evidently, this didn't even give them a pause, since they were focusing all of their attention on her. Normally, Rachel enjoyed the feeling. But this wasn't a performance, and they weren't staring at her in awe. It was more like…she couldn't place it. She couldn't take anymore of this.

"No," she said firmly. "No, I can't stay here anymore. I-I need to _do_…something." She brightened at a sudden thought. "I can't wait here not knowing how Vocal Adrenaline is doing. For all we know, they've turned in an excellent performance and we're going to be bumped from winning to placing."

They all sighed in exasperation, but they looked relieved, like she'd gone back to the normal Rachel they knew and…well, sort of loved. In a way.

"I'm going back to the auditorium to see if I can catch the end," she said determinedly. If she was busy critiquing Vocal Adrenaline, she couldn't be putting a dent in the floor worrying about Quinn. And her friends would all stop staring at her. It was completely win-win.

Except that if something happened to Quinn, she wouldn't be here. She started to panic a little.

"Rachel, you can't go alone," Finn put in, glancing at Mr. Schuester for support.

"Yes, if you insist on going, at least take someone with you," their coach agreed.

She shook her head rapidly. "It's only a couple blocks and I'll have my cell phone." She nearly grinned with the brilliance of that statement. "So if anything happens, I can just call you. Or you can call me, if you really need to." _Like if something happens to Quinn_, she added silently.

"But you left all your stuff in the dressing room," Finn reminded her.

"It's three blocks. I'll be fine, and I'll head to the dressing room before I do anything else." When he gave her a dubious look, she added, "I promise."

And before they could utter another protest, Rachel stormed down the hallway to make her escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the hospital waiting area.

XXXXXX

Coming back to watch Vocal Adrenaline hadn't been such a bad idea, in hindsight. Even if it _was_ just an excuse to get out of that hospital. They were doing spectacularly. The dancing was right on cue; it was perfectly synchronized with the music. Every beat had a coordinating movement. Jesse was excellence personified, even with the splint on his nose.

If anything was going to knock them down from first place, it was how his splint would occasionally reflect the spotlight and blind the judges. Rachel almost laughed, but she didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, so she bit down on the impulse.

Their performance was wrapping up, so she slipped out of the auditorium and wandered aimlessly down the corridor toward the dressing rooms.

She checked her cell phone for messages for the umpteenth time since she left the hospital, but there was still only the one from her dads asking for her to call and let them know how it turned out. They were trapped in a conference in Detroit, and she knew they were feeling the guilt. Really, she didn't mind—as long as they didn't miss Nationals. They listened to her sing at home more than enough to make up for any performance they happened to miss because of work.

Rachel sighed. She was relieved that the tornado in her head had calmed down since Quinn started contracting. She didn't have a headache anymore and she was only focusing on Quinn's well-being. No extraneous thoughts about how Quinn had punched Jesse in the nose, or how Jesse still made her a little weak in the knees when he sang, or how Finn was a really good friend. She probably should've been a little more disturbed by how one cry from Quinn turned her into such a pathetic mess, but she'd deal with that later.

Right now Rachel needed to focus on Regionals and Quinn's safety. Not necessarily in that order.

When she realized she'd ended up at the far end of the hallway, at Vocal Adrenaline's dressing room door, Rachel swallowed down a feeling of homesickness. That was all she could really call what she felt when she saw Shelby Corcoran. She peered in the little window in the door at her birth mother. Shelby was shuffling through papers on a mostly bare grey desk and she took a sip of coffee from a blue mug. Rachel felt the same longing stir that she had when Mrs. Fabray called Quinn 'sweetie.'

Her dads were wonderful and she loved them more than anything. But she was a sixteen year old girl, and sometimes having two caring gay dads wasn't enough. They couldn't always offer her the same things a mother could. Like when she'd wanted to know when the right time to have sex was. Even Ms. Pillsbury hadn't been able to supply an answer. Rachel _needed_ her mom. She only wished she could make her see that.

Rachel took a breath and cautiously pushed open the door.

XXXXXX

"Congratulations."

Shelby looked up from her temporary desk in surprise. The younger version of herself shut the door carefully and there was suddenly a horrible, gut-clenching feeling in Shelby's stomach. She didn't know exactly what it was that made her feel this way; she only knew that something was very wrong, and that she knew it just by looking at Rachel. There was tension in Rachel's frame and worry around her eyes—Shelby could see that now. She dropped her pencil to her desk.

"What's wrong?" she heard herself ask, and the concern in her voice surprised even her.

Rachel froze in place, looking taken aback. Shelby waited, and once Rachel recovered, her expression became resigned.

"Am I being that obvious?" she asked wryly.

Shelby didn't know what to say to that. She didn't know if it would've been obvious to anyone else. Her heart dropped again. And that was exactly why she was leaving Rachel to her life.

Rachel sighed, looking down. "It's nothing."

Shelby was about to let it drop. Maybe thank her for the congratulations, but the aching in her gut wouldn't go away. And then she spied Rachel surreptitiously glancing down at her phone, which she slipped back behind her after sagging with disappointment. She lifted her gaze again, apparently ready to come back to the conversation.

"I can see that," Shelby said, matching the dryness of her daughter's tone. She stepped around the desk to meet Rachel, gesturing for her to sit on one of the couches with her. Perhaps Rachel was being obvious about her distress, but it was also clear she needed to talk to someone about whatever was bothering her. And Shelby would be damned if she failed her daughter yet again.

Rachel sank down next to her obediently, laying the cell phone in her lap. Shelby straightened and tried to think about how to approach this. She couldn't pat her shoulder—they could barely hug. She sighed dolefully. This relationship was impossible.

"Why don't you tell me from the beginning?" she prompted, smiling in what she hoped was a supportive manner. She was only used to shouting out orders and telling her kids to be their best. She wasn't a mom. Not yet, anyway.

Rachel was silent long enough for Shelby to think as far as the appointment she would later be scheduling with the adoption agency. Then Rachel started talking, and after she started, it seemed that she couldn't stop the words from spilling past her lips as she told Shelby the story, from the beginning, like she'd asked. At least her kids would be too busy taking a lunch break to interrupt.

Rachel started with talking about glee club and Mr. Schuester and how Finn Hudson had joined and how dreamy he'd been, but how he had a girlfriend named Quinn, who later turned out to be pregnant even though Finn had feelings for Rachel, too. But Quinn hated her like no other and tortured her mercilessly, even before glee and Rachel meeting Finn—although she didn't really think Quinn truly hated her before that—but when she met Finn it really took off and then when Rachel found out she was pregnant, even though Finn was trying to seduce her into coming back to glee, she tried to support Quinn, but Quinn still hated her.

And then Rachel found out the baby was really Noah's, who was a really good person when he wanted to be and an excellent male lead if Finn wasn't already so good, so she told Finn the truth, because it was the right thing, but mostly because she wanted him to pick her, and she felt horribly bad for trying to steal him, but when she apologized to Quinn, she wasn't mad, even though she still hated her. And then Rachel started going out with Finn after letting him have a grieving period, because it seemed like that was what he wanted, too—which it was, except he didn't realize that until he'd already broken her heart and she started dating Jesse, who was wonderful to her and everything up until she made a music video with Noah, Finn, and Jesse in it.

She still didn't understand what was so horrible about that, since it wasn't like she'd _slept_ with all three of them, but anyway, then Finn wouldn't let it go and Jesse came back and he was wonderful again, until the whole going back to Vocal Adrenaline and breaking her heart and egging her thing—

"Wait, wait, wait," Shelby cut in at last. Suddenly she was feeling angry. And it was never a good thing when Shelby Corcoran got angry. "Jesse did _what_?"

Rachel turned red. "Oh…I-I didn't mean to tell you that. I-it was just…well, they were trying to put us in a funk so we wouldn't perform well at Regionals. So, after they TP'ed our practice room, well…Jesse called me to the parking lot and they…egged me."

Shelby fumed. She knew her kids often played mind games with the competition. Hell, they'd even done it before Sectionals—and they'd had _that_ in the bag from the beginning. But they were always legal about it, so it never truly became a problem. Until now, apparently. That sadistic little bastard would be lucky if he got out of this building with that precious nose he'd been keening about for days still attached when she was finished with him.

Rachel looked a little frightened, so Shelby tried to soften her expression for her sake.

"I'm sorry. Go on," she pressed, smiling tightly.

It took her a moment, but soon Rachel was back to full speed. Apparently after the egging she'd been too depressed to notice Finn's advances, although the funk number they did to get back at Vocal Adrenaline had been very fun, and then they found out evil Coach Sylvester was going to be a judge and they knew glee club would be over because she always had it in for them and then Finn was so sweet seeing the positive side of her bossiness that she'd kissed him as a thank you, which somehow turned into a pseudo-relationship, but now all she could think was that Finn was a really good friend and that she still sort of had feelings for Jesse.

And _then_ Rachel found out Quinn Fabray had broken Jesse's nose. Shelby almost burst into laughter at the mental image of the blonde spitfire hitting the ever-arrogant Jesse St. James, but she held it back when she saw the turmoil on Rachel's face.

Rachel talked her through the circular thoughts she'd had ever since the moment she found out, the frustrating conversation she'd had with Quinn, and then about all she'd felt since Quinn started having her contractions, and how the only thing she'd been able to focus on ever since was hoping Quinn was okay. As if to prove it, she glanced at her cell phone again.

Shelby wanted to laugh again, but she held it in. Her poor, dear, innocent Rachel. This was one time, Shelby decided, she'd have to push past the distance between them. She wrapped her arm around Rachel's shoulders and smiled contentedly when she felt her daughter lean into her.

"I just don't understand," Rachel said at last, sighing heavily and rubbing her forehead, "as you could probably tell. I get a headache every time I think about it."

Shelby rubbed her arm. "I know. These things can be confusing for everyone. Just ask your coach." Rachel smiled a little. "Do you want to know my advice?"

Rachel perked up immediately and her head bobbed so rapidly Shelby was afraid it would wobble right off her neck.

She decided to start out with the easy one. "Well, first of all, if you really only feel friendship for Finn, I think you need to tell him. And if he's really as good a friend as you think he is, he'll understand." Rachel looked glum, but she nodded in acknowledgement. Shelby took a breath. "Second, Jesse St. James is not worth your time. Do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who can treat you with such little respect?"

Rachel sighed, looking torn. Eventually, she started digging underneath her fingernails and muttered, "No."

"That's what I thought," Shelby said proudly. "You deserve better, Rachel. I think the best thing you can do with Jesse is move on."

Her daughter nodded slowly, but she still wouldn't meet her eyes. Shelby sighed. Now for the _really_ tough one. It seemed clear to Shelby what Quinn was thinking, but she supposed it would be hard to accept that about someone who had bullied you for the better part of your high school career. Then again, it also seemed clear to Shelby that Rachel didn't exactly mind, even if she wasn't aware of it.

"As for Quinn…" she ventured slowly. Rachel immediately met her eyes and Shelby struggled for words. "You know, sometimes…the person you thought was your worst enemy?"

Rachel looked at her hopefully and Shelby smiled. Rachel had been right—everything they did was ridiculously dramatic, and yet they were so comfortable with it.

"Can be the one person who understands you completely," she finished, rubbing her daughter's shoulder soothingly.

Rachel took a moment to think about that, and when she looked back up at Shelby, her brow was scrunched up.

"That's…really messed up," she said at length.

Shelby didn't bother holding in her laughter this time. Rachel smiled and Shelby's heart warmed at the sight.

"I know it is," she agreed, grinning briefly. "I think…you should stop analyzing what everyone else is feeling, just for now. And do a little thinking about how _you_ feel."

Rachel frowned. "Well, I-I don't know. I guess—"

The music of '_Evergreen_' filled the little room, but Barbra only got as far as '_Love so—_' before Rachel had the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she answered urgently.

Shelby smiled in amusement and gradually released Rachel from the one-armed hug. Rachel was so focused on her conversation that she didn't even notice.

"Hi. She did? Oh, God, is she—" The tension in Rachel's shoulders immediately drained, leaving her with such a feeling of relief that she actually smiled. "Thank God. I'm coming back." Her smile flipped to a frown. "Oh, right. Well…all right. I'll see you then. Bye."

She lowered the phone and clicked the 'end' button. Shelby leaned forward to catch her eyes and Rachel shook herself out of her daze.

"Quinn had her baby," she explained, smiling widely. Her eyes were shining. "They're both fine."

Shelby couldn't help smiling, too. "That's wonderful."

"Everyone's coming back for the judging," she continued, gaze dropping again. "I-I should get to the dressing room to wait for them."

Right. There was always that. Shelby sighed.

"I…thanks for this," Rachel said at length. "You see…I do need you."

And then she bolted for the door.

XXXXXX

"She's so beautiful," Mom said for the fiftieth time, sounding just as in awe as the first time.

Quinn smiled tiredly. She had a newfound respect for the woman cradling the pink swathed baby at the end of her bed. She couldn't believe she'd done this twice. Quinn could sleep for a week, and she'd only done it once.

Mercedes had gone to gush to Kurt about how amazing it had all been and Puck was calling his mother to tell her the wonderful news that the Christian chick he knocked up had finally popped. So it was just Quinn, her mother, and her daughter for now. Until the nurse came back to try breastfeeding again, that is. Quinn hadn't been so excited about that part, but the baby needed nutrients right away, and it was good for Quinn, too.

She was still dead set on adopting the baby out.

Mom sighed happily. "She looks just like you."

Quinn grinned, eyelids drooping a little. "You've mentioned that."

"I'm so proud of you, sweetie," her mom said warmly, rocking the baby. "You did wonderfully."

Quinn sighed. She would've done better if Berry hadn't let go of her hand. The only reason Quinn had 'let' the digits slip from her grasp was because her hand was too sweaty to maintain her grip. And she'd been about to tell Puck to stop so she could retrieve Rachel, but then she'd been in so much pain she couldn't say anything. By the time she could form words again, it was too late and there was no Rachel to hold onto.

It had been horrifying. Mercedes and Mom were wonderful support, but she wanted—needed, even—Rachel to tell her it was going to be okay because, statistically speaking, the odds were in her favor for surviving this awful pain. She needed her to tell her that because she was young, she had a better chance of recovering her figure than most women. She'd needed Rachel's hand around hers—her soft, very not mannish hands. Mostly, she'd just needed Rachel.

And right now she did, too. But apparently Rachel didn't need her. When the rest of New Directions came to visit her and the baby, they told her Rachel had gone back to the auditorium to scope out Vocal Adrenaline's performance. Quinn blamed the tear she'd cried on the hormones and the strain of having a baby.

Mom was settling the baby back down in the little bed and Quinn sighed. The very thoughts she was having about Rachel were against everything her parents had raised her to be. She'd lost the ability to care long ago, but now Mom wanted her back and this wasn't fair to her. As much as she hated it, she needed to tell her.

"Mom," Quinn said, but it came out as more of a whisper.

Her mother smiled and sat on the edge of the hospital bed, taking her hand as she did so. Quinn sighed.

"What is it, darling?"

"I…there's something I have to tell you," she said slowly, "b-before you welcome me back home."

Mom's brow furrowed. "Sweetie, whatever it is—"

Quinn pushed herself up. She needed to be awake for this. "No. No, I need to tell you. I need to be honest for once. And…when I tell you, it's okay if you don't want me to come home anymore. Mercedes's parents said I could stay as long as I like, and—"

Her mom squeezed her hand. "Whatever it is, we'll work it out."

She sighed again and looked away, focusing her eyes on the wrinkle in the blue sheets at the end of the bed. The rest of the sheets were perfectly ironed, save for where Quinn herself was sitting. There was that one spot of imperfection. She focused on it and braced herself before she spoke.

"When Dad kicked me out, a lot changed for me. I was too scared to tell Finn the truth, even if I'd wanted to, and then I had to move from house to house. And I realized how completely insignificant I would be if it weren't for glee. And there's this…" she took a deep breath "…girl, who showed me who my real friends are. Glee became my life, and I was…if not happy, at least content. And then I started having these feelings.

"It was like…I was just going along and then it-it just hit me. I-I tried to ignore it, brush it aside, pretend it wasn't there. But there were these moments that I just…couldn't. And when that glorified statue left Vocal Adrenaline for her, I went crazy." She would've chuckled if she weren't so near tears. "I mean, I _really_ went insane. I couldn't take seeing him _looking_ at her. And I know a lot of people think she's self-centered—heck, _I've_ thought that—but she has such a good heart, Mama. She's so good and I couldn't stop it and I'm sorry—"

Mom pulled Quinn into her arms and she sobbed into her shoulder, mentally blaming the tears on the hormones and exhaustion again. Her mom was cooing to her and rubbing her back, calming her down phenomenally. When she'd cried until she couldn't anymore, Mom leaned back and wiped the wetness from her cheeks, smiling at her.

"There's my Quinnie," she teased, kissing her cheek.

She smiled briefly. "Are…I—"

"Honey. I love you," Mom said fiercely. "No matter what. And…I'm so sorry I was too scared to be there for you when you needed me." She looked down, running her thumb over the back of Quinn's hand. Quinn went to assure her that it was all right, but Mom met her gaze again before she could. "To be honest, after all that's happened with your father, I'm not sure you don't have the right idea."

Quinn laughed and her mom joined her. She grinned when their giggles had worn out and kissed Quinn's cheek again.

"Now, I had better get on the phone and tell your aunt the good news," she said playfully, squeezing her hand. "She's been after me about this for months."

Quinn smiled after her mother in disbelief and relief in equal measures. Her gaze slid to the sleeping baby at the foot of her bed. Today must've been a day for miracles, she decided. Maybe Rachel would even come see her. And with that happy thought, she let her eyelids slide shut for a good, long nap.


	5. Developments and Done Deals

**A/N:** Hope y'all enjoy this one. ;)

**Developments and Done Deals**

Rachel let out a shaky breath as she strode down the hall toward New Directions's dressing room. It had taken more effort than she cared to admit just to say 'I need you' to her mother. She'd spent the better part of her life needing no one, or at least refusing to acknowledge it when she did. If she needed anyone, they would leave her. Since Shelby was already doing that, confessing her desperation couldn't hurt anything. She hoped.

The anxiety Rachel suffered regarding her mother couldn't trump the relief she felt in knowing that Quinn was all right. It was like her entire body released a breath it had been holding for a long time, and now she could relax. Part of her was aching to return to the hospital to see Quinn for herself and make absolutely certain that Tina was right and she was fine.

But everyone was coming back for the judging, so that would have to wait. She would just have to be satisfied with Tina's assurances. And since she trusted Tina, Rachel relaxed. For now.

It didn't last long, for at the very moment she was about to round the corner, she came face-to-face with Jesse St. James and Vocal Adrenaline. He stopped to face her, and his fellow glee clubbers moved past them, a few sending sneers Rachel's way. Andrea Cohen was the only one who bothered to stop.

She sidled up next to Jesse, running a possessive hand up his arm and over his shoulder. She smirked at Rachel when Jesse didn't move away, and the brunette might've rolled her eyes if she'd been paying the slightest bit of attention.

Most of her attention was concentrated on Jesse's dark eyes and the little flutter that went through her stomach when he looked at her. Apparently his gaze had lost some of its influence over her, though, because her knees didn't go weak and she didn't want to smile at him. The rest of her focus went to three things: Shelby's advice concerning Jesse, trying not to laugh at the splint, and wondering what Quinn was doing at that very moment.

"You coming, Jess?" Andrea asked sweetly.

He tossed her a nod. "In a minute."

"Don't be long," she purred, and then she grinned meanly at Rachel again before waltzing off down the hallway.

Rachel _did_ roll her eyes this time, but Jesse ignored it.

"Congratulations," he said.

_Once more with even less feeling, please_, she thought irritably.

"You, too. I was glad to see that your nasal injury didn't affect your singing," she replied. Her lips were quivering with the urge to giggle.

He shrugged gracefully. "It's the only reason I'm not pressing charges."

Rachel could understand that, at least. Although, personally, she would've sued anyway. She was pleased he didn't see it the same way—Quinn didn't need the added stress. That reminded her….

"I…I haven't told them yet," she said. "I will, but I don't think I really need to, since chances are you and I won't be seeing each other again."

Jesse nodded curtly. "I'm going to Los Angeles after we win Nationals."

She scowled at him indignantly. "You don't even know if you've won Regionals. How can you—"

"Please, Rachel." He looked like he wanted to laugh. "As if New Directions could ever hope to beat us? We're superior in every way, and you know it." She huffed, folding her arms, but he wasn't done. "We have better funding, better coaching, and better choreography. And—with the exception of you—better singers, but you can't hold that pathetic little group up all by yourself. Even I couldn't."

Rachel glared at him, spine stiffening. Jesse was smirking at her and all she wanted to do in that moment was re-break his nose and see who was smug then. It was suddenly very clear to her. She knew exactly what her mother was saying. Jesse would never be good enough for her, because he would never get over himself. He would never treat her the way she deserved to be treated.

"So even if you beat Aural Intensity—which, by the way, isn't exactly climbing Everest—you will never be able to best us. You'll never be good enough," he said, shrugging. "Even with all your 'heart.'" He sneered.

Rachel eyed him for a moment. She so wanted to smack him and lecture him for two straight hours on exactly why New Directions was better than Vocal Adrenaline—including but not limited to their amazing singing that was filled with more emotion than those overrated robots had in their entire bodies. But it would do absolutely no good. It would've gone in one ear and out the other, and Jesse would've walked away, smirk as large and arrogant as ever.

So instead she simply said, "You know, you're kind of a jerk."

Jesse looked so surprised he couldn't even come up with a response. Rachel took a breath. It was time to say goodbye.

"I'm not sorry I dated you. I learned a lot from our relationship that I hope will help me when I find the right person. Someone worthy." She smiled a little when his eyes went even wider, and for some reason, she couldn't stop staring at his splint. "You're very talented, Jesse, and I wish you well. But I do hope that our paths don't cross again."

And, with that, Rachel went to go past him. Jesse blocked her movement, expression darkening the way it had after he'd seen the music video she made. She braced herself for whatever nasty thing he was about to say, but then—

"Jesse St. James," a commanding voice barked so harshly it made them both jump.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Shelby glowering at him, arms folded tightly across her chest. She looked so pissed Rachel almost felt sorry for Jesse. Almost.

Shelby curled her finger, beckoning him. "Here. _Now_."

Jesse paled—_actually_ paled—and headed her way, shooting Rachel one last look before he scampered off to his coach, tail between his legs. Rachel smiled at her glowering mother and turned to go meet her teammates in the dressing room, feeling better than she had all day.

XXXXXX

"Do you want to keep her?"

Puck's voice startled her. They'd been staring at the baby for so long Quinn had almost forgotten he was there. Mom was still on the phone with her aunt, as far as she knew, and the rest of New Directions had gone to join Rachel for the announcement of the Regionals winners. She wished she could be there with them—and she knew Puck did, too—but it was just as important to have these moments with her baby. Before she gave her up.

"No," she breathed. He'd known the answer before she said it, just as she did. "Do you?"

He made a noise that was almost a snort. As if to say, 'duh.' It was amazing the way he loved his daughter, as he could love no other woman in his life. Even his mom and little sister didn't get this much adoration. Quinn turned her attention back to the baby. She breathed in and out, making the little pink blanket move up and down slowly. It was reassuring in a way.

They were silent again for several moments, marveling at the beautiful life they'd created together. That night had been anything but magical—what bits Quinn could remember definitely weren't, anyway—but this was. Apparently Puck was thinking along the same lines.

"She's so gorgeous," he whispered, sounding awestruck. "Just like you."

Quinn started, pinching her lower lip between her teeth before she could say anything. She did love Puck—in a really weird, twisted 'you're the father of my baby so I kind of have to put up with you' way. It was nothing like how she felt about Rachel, and she didn't want to confuse Puck or lead him on the way she had Finn when she was so wrapped up in someone else she could hardly think straight. But she didn't know what to say to discourage him, either. Not without ruining the moment they were sharing.

Puck glanced at her and smirked. "It's okay."

Her brow furrowed. "What's okay?"

"I know you don't love me," he said. "You never could have." And the nonchalance with which he said it made her feel sorry for him, just for a moment. He sighed. "And I could never love you. Not the way you want. She can, though."

Quinn's stomach tightened. He knew? How could he possibly know? No one else did. Once, she'd complimented Rachel in Mercedes's presence and the girl stared at her like she'd grown a second head. And she had only been talking about her singing. So there was no way anyone else knew.

She tried feigning innocence when she asked, "Who?"

Puck chuckled. "Come on, Quinn. You held on to Rachel tighter than you dug your nails in when we had sex."

Quinn swallowed, mentally bypassing his usual vulgar comment in favor of trying to recover control of the conversation.

"Well, you try pushing a nine pound baby out your vagina sometime," she retorted, putting the sass back in her voice. "See what _you'll_ be willing to hold onto."

He shook his head, smiling. "Look, it's okay. I don't care. You and Rachel are my girls. I'm gonna support you no matter what. And if anybody says anything, I'm gonna flush the punk's head down the toilet." Quinn couldn't help a smile, and Puck returned it before gazing back at their daughter. "Plus, it'll be really awesome to watch you make out."

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. "Pig."

He grinned, and she shook her head, turning back to their baby. Quinn had gotten lost in the steady rhythm of her baby's breathing again when she heard the click of heels on the tiles. She looked up immediately and her heart lifted when she saw Rachel—and Tina—coming their way. Rachel was coming to see her. It really _was_ a day for miracles.

The feeling of euphoria faded rapidly when she saw their expressions. Tina had changed back into her Goth clothing and she looked like someone had just stolen her puppy—only worse. Rachel was still in costume, but she was visibly fighting tears. Quinn's heart went from leaping to aching.

Tina's eyes were downcast and, when Rachel glanced at her, Quinn saw her steel herself and shove aside her sorrow before she placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. Rachel met Quinn's eyes a second later and the blonde saw her shoulders drop a tad, as though in relief.

"Did we—" Puck started, but then he must've caught the looks on their faces, too.

Tina and Rachel stopped a few feet off, and even though Puck had been silent for several moments now, Tina shook her head. Quinn could now clearly see that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. She frowned deeply. Glee was over? It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. It was…_glee_.

"No," Rachel said softly. She was looking at Quinn. "Vocal…." She couldn't get through the sentence.

Tina was the one who started crying, though, and in that moment Puck showed just how sensitive he could be. He brushed past Quinn and then tugged the shy girl into his arms. She melted into him and he guided her away, rubbing Rachel's shoulder briefly as he passed by. Quinn and Rachel were left behind in partial silence, listening to the sounds of Tina's crying fade gradually.

Quinn didn't know what to say. It seemed Rachel didn't, either. So they stared at one another for a few moments in which Quinn's heart broke for Rachel. She looked so shattered, just like Quinn felt. Glee was their family. It couldn't be over just like that. Just because some stupid judges said so.

Quinn folded her arms to keep herself from crossing the distance between them. She desperately wanted to wrap Rachel in her arms until they both felt better, knowing the other would always be there, even if glee wasn't. But she made herself stand still.

Eventually, Rachel smiled a little. "Can I see her?"

She gestured toward the window beyond Quinn. The blonde nodded and beckoned her. Rachel stepped into Quinn's space and the blonde hesitantly placed her hands on the brunette's bare shoulders, directing her to the right spot. Her fingers tingled with the sensation of touching Rachel's bare skin and she tried to slow her breathing, which was currently trying to betray her.

"She's right there," she murmured, pointing over the brunette's shoulder.

Rachel nodded, indicating that she'd spotted her. Quinn forced herself to release her—and _without_ running her fingers through the ends of the soft-looking tendrils caressing her shoulder blades. It was bad enough that she was practically panting down her neck. In the interests of fixing that particular problem, Quinn slid over and next to Rachel at the glass, peering in as well. She couldn't help stealing a glance at the brunette and her breath caught in her throat as soon as she did.

There were still tears in Rachel's eyes, but not one had managed to leak past yet. Her lips were parted, as though she wanted to say something but couldn't form the words. A traitorous lock had slipped past her ear and Quinn's fingers, still tingling from their brush with naked skin, itched to push it back behind the lobe and kiss her.

"Are you still going to give her up for adoption?" Rachel asked suddenly, startling Quinn out of staring at her hair and lips and eyes.

Fortunately, she hadn't been caught. Rachel was still watching the baby.

"Yes," she said at last. Rachel didn't say anything, so Quinn decided to explain herself further. "I think it's best for both of us. She needs a parent who's already settled in life, who can provide for her, and give her the opportunity to have a good life. And I know it sounds selfish, but I don't want to keep her and grow to resent her because I lost _my_ opportunities. I just—"

"Quinn," she said, almost sternly. Quinn snapped her gaze to the shorter girl, who was watching her intently. "I don't have to agree with your choice to understand it." She paused, turning back to the window. "And I don't think you're selfish," she whispered.

Quinn couldn't help the small grin that popped up. Rachel thinking she wasn't selfish may possibly have been the brightest part of her day, which was pretty sad, when she thought about it. So she didn't think about it. Instead she turned back to the baby, too, still privately smiling despite the underlying sadness about the fate of New Directions.

It was nice standing there with Rachel, looking at her baby. No one was bothering them and they could just be together, with no pressure to play a role. Not that Quinn cared much about the role she was supposed to play anymore. The only reasons she kept it up were to protect herself, to avoid confusing Rachel, and because, honestly, she liked seeing Rachel get flustered and angry. Her eyes were always so bright and her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and Quinn loved every second of it.

Rachel took a breath, but she didn't say anything. Quinn glanced down at her and found that her mouth was open, but she looked like she really didn't want to say whatever she was about to. Quinn braced herself.

"What?" she asked, just a tad defensively.

"Are you…are you going back to the Cheerios?" Rachel said at last, avoiding her eyes.

Quinn was taken aback. Frankly, she'd thought Rachel was going to say she wanted to leave. Or that she was uncomfortable. Or something equally brutally honest that would secretly hurt Quinn, while outwardly pushing her Head Bitch In Charge attitude firmly back into place. Now she didn't know what to say.

Rachel glanced up at her briefly, looking anxious for an answer. Quinn stumbled on her words.

"I-I don't know. I guess I…haven't really thought about it," she admitted, a little sheepishly.

Really, she hadn't thought about anything past giving the baby away. Partly because she hadn't thought anything would go back to normal. Which, technically, it wasn't, even if she was moving back in with her mom. She still had to deal with her parents's divorce and moving—for the fourth time that year. And the leftover fat from being pregnant.

Speaking of which, rejoining the Cheerios probably wouldn't be a bad idea when it came to that. Quinn already fully intended on exercising as much as possible over the summer so she could get her body back to normal, but when she was in school, she wouldn't have as much time to worry about her muscle tone. And even if Quinn loathed Coach Sylvester to her very core at the moment, the woman was still a good cheerleading coach, and she'd make absolutely certain Quinn wasn't carrying any extra weight.

Of course, this would all be a moot point if Coach Sylvester decided having an ex-pregnant girl on the squad would still be bad for it. She was about to say as much to Rachel, but the brunette spoke first.

"I hope you don't," she said, but it was more like a whimper.

Quinn could hear the tears begging for an escape in her voice and she frowned with concern.

"Why?" she asked, as gently as she could.

"Because you won't talk to m-us anymore," Rachel blurted, looking down at her hands where they were fidgeting with the sill.

Quinn turned to her, alarmed at the broken sound in the brunette's voice. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is," she retorted sharply, wiping her eyes furiously. "You won't because you won't have an excuse to talk to the freaks now that glee club is over." And as soon as she said it—admitted it—out loud, Rachel burst into powerful sobs that wracked her body.

Quinn was too close to resist this time. She grabbed the brunette's shoulders and pulled her against her body, wrapping her arms tightly around her. She half-expected Rachel to rebel and shove her off, but instead she slid her arms under Quinn's and hugged her back, burying her face in her shoulder.

Quinn sighed with something akin to relief, glad that her baby bump was mostly gone for this. Without it, their bodies were free to press flush against each other, and she was pleased to learn that Rachel fit against her perfectly, curving in all the right places.

She rubbed the brunette's back comfortingly, trying to smooth the tension out and calm her as she wept into her robe. The tears must've been contagious, because soon Quinn was sniffling and trying to fight them back, too. She understood exactly how Rachel felt. They couldn't lose glee. That choir room had become their home, their refuge. And their teammates were their family. Sure, they didn't always get along and sometimes they were extremely dysfunctional, but it worked and they loved each other all the same. It couldn't be over.

And why should it have to be? Okay, so now that they hadn't even placed at Regionals, the club would be officially disbanded. Figgins would probably give the room away to some undeserving club that didn't need the funding glee did to run, and they wouldn't be able to compete anymore because they didn't have any money. But that didn't mean the club itself and the friendships it had created had to end.

Quinn steeled her resolve and squeezed Rachel tighter. She was thrilled when the brunette squeezed back.

"It's not over," she said firmly. She let a daring hand reach up a little higher and stroke Rachel's hair—which turned out to be a huge mistake because the brown locks didn't just _look_ soft. They were silky and smooth and would be so easy to run her fingers through and she just wanted to keep petting them and bury her nose there and—

Rachel thankfully interrupted that train of thought. "Yes, it is. We lost. It's over." Her voice was muffled and cracking, but Quinn got the gist.

Quinn backed out of the hug and took her by the shoulders, bending to meet her gaze determinedly.

"It doesn't have to be. Not if we don't let it," she said intently, absently brushing the hair out of Rachel's eyes.

She'd stopped sobbing at least, but she was still crying when she said, "What are you talking about? You heard what Mercedes said, and Noah agreed. They won't even talk to us anymore and it's done…it's just…." She bowed her head, trying to hide her tears.

Quinn hadn't been able to stop touching her since she started, so when Rachel ducked, she ran her thumbs over her cheeks, swiping away the tears and trying to urge her to look at her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was a bad idea and she was going down a very dangerous road, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The tingles were shooting up her arms now, spreading goose bumps and making the hair stand on end, and she couldn't stop marveling at how soft Rachel's skin was under her hands.

"That's just Puck and Santana," she said dismissively. "And so what if Brittany does everything Santana says? The rest of us won't stop talking to each other. Do you really think glee ending is going to break Tina and Artie up? Or that it'll stop Mercedes and Kurt from spending every spare second together?"

"That's different," she insisted sorrowfully.

"How?" she demanded, scowling.

"Everyone else made friends in glee club. The only reason any of you talk to me is _because_ of glee," Rachel confessed, and then she immediately tried to pull out of Quinn's grasp.

Quinn snatched her shoulders and held her in place. "That's not true. Not anymore, anyway. I know they all give you a lot of grief about being annoying and bossy, but some of the time it's just because you're so serious. They feel like you should laugh at yourself once in a while. And, fine, I can't honestly say that that's true for Santana or Brittany, but everyone else…."

Rachel frowned at her doubtfully, so Quinn took a deep breath and continued, "Mercedes and Kurt really admire your singing, even if they would never admit it to you. And Mike and Matt actually appreciate the swift kick in the ass you give them when their grades start slipping. Artie just finds you amusing most of the time, and Tina looks up to you. Puck adores you as much as a man-whore like him can, and I think you know how Finn feels about you." She fought a losing battle with a grimace at that last one.

Then she saw Rachel wince. Quinn narrowed her eyes, trying to read her expression, but whatever was there before was gone. And now she was smiling at Quinn gratefully, which was just as good—because it wasn't for Finn, it was for her. Any doubts she might have had about that were erased when Rachel slipped closer and cautiously rested her chin on Quinn's shoulder. The blonde melted around her again, smiling against the brunette when she relaxed, too.

"Thank you," Rachel murmured, and Quinn squeezed her again.

She rubbed her upper arms briefly when she felt the brunette start to pull out of the hug. It was hard to break contact now that she'd touched the smooth skin—it was addicting, really—but she forced herself to keep her hands away this time, folding her arms tight across her ribs. Rachel was smiling tearfully at her again.

"So do you get it now?" Quinn said roughly, but she let her lips quirk up to indicate that she was teasing. "They may not know your deepest, darkest secrets, but you're still the leader. You can keep us together."

Rachel was staring at her now, something like wonder passing over her features. Quinn waited for her response, brow furrowing in concern when Rachel's gaze flitted away and she swallowed visibly.

"Help me," she said at length. When Quinn quirked a questioning brow, she added, "Please. I…w-we could do it together." Her cheeks turned fiery red. "I mean, we could plan parties an-and things together. To keep the group in one piece. Like…over the summer and everything."

Quinn smirked. "Like barbeques and pool parties and things like that."

Rachel nodded rapidly, but she was still avoiding her eyes. "Yeah. Y-yes, those are great ideas."

The blonde wasn't absolutely positive about this, but she was fairly certain Rachel's eyes were darting down—and not exactly to the floor. And every time they did, her blush darkened. Those two observations, combined with the fact that the normally articulate brunette was stuttering, led Quinn to a conclusion she almost immediately cast aside as impossible.

But Quinn Fabray was no idiot. So when she saw Rachel's tongue flick out over her lower lip, she decided to bring the theory back on the table and test it—just a little, nothing big.

"Sure. I'll do it with you."

A tiny bit of emphasis was all it took and Quinn had to bite her lip to keep from grinning triumphantly when Rachel's cheeks went from red to almost purple.

"Okay. Right. Good." Rachel nodded rapidly and cleared her throat. "I-I have to…talk to Finn. I'll see you l-later."

She nearly tripped over her high heels in her rush to escape and Quinn grinned after her, feeling happier than she had in weeks. Maybe Jesse St. Jerk whining to Rachel hadn't been such a bad thing after all.


	6. Dreams and Dread

**A/N:** Thanks to _Bladed Darkness_ for the correction on 'Aural Intensity.' :) Also, even I don't really like this chapter, so feel free to hate it. ;)

**Dreams and Dread**

Finn glanced idly at his watch for what felt like the tenth time since he and Mr. Schue sat down. Most of New Directions was back in the dressing room, changing or moping around the cafeteria before they had to go home, and Puck had come by with Tina, who he was taking to get ice cream. Not to eat, of course, but to throw at the judges. Mr. Schue was too sad to object, and instead just smiled a little. It was really depressing.

Mercedes had pointed out that Puck and Quinn would want to know what the verdict was, but she was an absolute mess and didn't make it to the door before she burst into tears. Tina was a wreck, too, but she'd wanted to get out of the auditorium. Rachel had volunteered first, looking almost eager about it, although Finn supposed that was probably just because she wanted to get out of there, too. When he'd decided to go with Rachel, Tina had hopped on board, and then Mr. Schuester said he'd escort them.

Finn suspected that had more to do with getting himself out of that depressing atmosphere, too, than anything else.

So there they were, once again, waiting in the hospital. At least no one was having a baby this time, but Finn was still feeling restless. He played with the strings of his hoodie, just for something to do. He might've read one of the magazines, but they were all about country living and decorating and babies and stuff. And he didn't want to pick up _Cosmo_ in front of Mr. Schue. Besides, he was too bummed to read.

He was just as depressed as everyone else about New Directions being over, but he didn't think they needed to act like it was the end of the world. They would still see each other at school, and even though Puck and Santana and Brittany—and maybe eventually Mike and Matt—wouldn't talk to them anymore—probably Quinn, too—that didn't mean _he_ wouldn't. After all, he and Rachel were almost dating and Tina, Mercedes, Artie, and Kurt were all really good friends. Even if it did still disturb him a tiny bit that a guy had a crush on him.

Finn sighed. "They're taking a really long time."

Mr. Schue nodded. He had his hands balled up together so tight his knuckles were turning white.

"Well, it's probably not the easiest news to break," he said quietly. "Quinn's had a rough year."

"So has Rachel," he replied, frowning. He almost leapt to his feet at a thought. "What if they're trying to _kill_ each other?" He gripped the arms of his chair tightly.

Mr. Schue almost smiled at that. "Finn, I'm sure they're fine. As you know, Rachel can be pretty longwinded about these things."

Finn relaxed a little. "Oh. Right."

That was true. Rachel did like to talk. A lot. And even though it annoyed Quinn, she seemed to have mellowed about it since she joined glee. Most of the time she just ignored Rachel, which was way better than putting ice cubes down her shirt and telling her to get sterilized via MySpace and trapping her in a bathroom stall for all of first period. Although, he suspected the last one had been Santana. Still, it was much, much better.

"I hope she comes back soon," he said, mostly to fill the silence. He tapped his thumbs on the metal arm of the chair.

"I'm sure it won't be much longer," Mr. Schue assured him. He lifted his gaze a moment later. "Why so anxious?"

Finn fought a smile. "I'm kind of hoping to ask her to dinner. O-on a date."

"Oh, well…great. I'm happy for you." Mr. Schue tried to smile, but it just wasn't coming off. Finn shrugged. He would be more excited for them after they all got over glee club being over. Finn would really miss going to that choir room at the end of the day.

Mr. Schue took a breath, like he wanted to say something, but then he just closed his mouth. Finn couldn't help his curiosity.

"What?"

"Well, I…I wanted to talk to you about this whole Rachel thing," Mr. Schue said hesitantly.

Finn frowned. "Okay…."

He sighed, considering. "How do I say this?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned to face Finn. "Rachel just got hurt…_really_ badly. And I think we both know how that feels." Finn's frown deepened, but he didn't interrupt. "We don't know what to do at first, you know? We make bad choices, stumble, and maybe even hurt people—unintentionally—on the way, because we don't really know what we want yet. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Finn's brow furrowed. "I think…oh, you mean like how I went on a date with Santana and Brittany?"

Mr. Schue brightened a bit. "Yeah, exactly like that."

"So you're saying Rachel's going to go on a date with Santana and Brittany?" Finn asked, half-disgusted and half-disbelieving.

He sighed, shaking his head. "No, no, I mean—"

"Oh!" Finn ducked his head sheepishly. "I get it. But…no, this isn't like that. Rachel's wanted to date me before I knew I wanted to date her."

"Are you sure that hasn't changed?" Mr. Schue asked. Finn scowled at him. "Look, Finn, I'm not trying to create problems where there aren't any, but…it's been a really long time since Rachel has shown any interest in dating you. You hurt her pretty badly, and she didn't exactly take it well."

"Yeah, she rebounded to Jesse," he said confidently. "Now she's over it."

Mr. Schue sighed resignedly, still looking dubious. Finn smiled to reassure him. Rachel wanted this just as much as he did. Why else would she have kissed him first?

"I hope you're right," Mr. Schue murmured, and Finn knew he wasn't meant to hear it.

Finn was just about to tell him he didn't have to hope when he saw Rachel coming their way. Her arms were folded and she looked like she'd been crying. Finn rose to meet her, frowning in concern when he saw how troubled she looked.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

Rachel jumped, as though she hadn't even noticed she was in the waiting area.

"Oh." She cleared her throat, blinking several times. "Yes. Fine." She turned to Mr. Schuester. "Should we gather everyone for the ride home?"

He nodded. "Probably a good idea. I want to get you guys home before dark."

Rachel sighed and stepped past them. Finn caught up in two short strides and slipped his arm around her shoulder. She didn't pull away, only sending a small smile his way after a moment. He smiled contentedly.

XXXXXX

_Don't look at Quinn, don't look at Quinn, don't look at Quinn, don't—damnit, why did you look?_ As predicted, Rachel's cheeks immediately set on fire and she jerked around to face Mr. Schuester again. She squirmed in her chair, trying to simultaneously halt the onslaught of images and thoughts that single glance elicited and maintain her purchase on what Mr. Schuester was saying.

After the devastating announcement that New Directions had been defeated on Saturday, Rachel's grief had been considerable. She'd felt hollow, like she had after she saw Jesse standing on stage with Vocal Adrenaline. Like nothing, and no one, could ever make it better. Then Mercedes had mentioned Puck and Quinn, and, to Rachel's everlasting surprise, she'd leapt at the opportunity to see the blonde.

She'd been relieved to see for herself that Quinn was well, and when Quinn realized what happened, she'd looked so crushed Rachel wanted to rush over and hug her. Instead, she'd diverted their attention to that gorgeous bundle of joy beyond the window. It had worked for a while. She was in awe of the beautiful life Quinn created, and the only negative emotion she'd felt in that moment, standing side by side with the blonde, was regret.

She wished she hadn't let go of her hand, but at the time, she'd thought Quinn wouldn't want 'Man Hands' there annoying her while she was trying to 'push a person out of her', as Kurt had put it. Now she wasn't so sure.

Rachel had felt Quinn staring at her while they stood at the glass, but she hadn't let on. She'd been afraid Quinn would stop if she did. For some unfathomable reason, she liked it. It was a side of the blonde Rachel had never seen. She was always calm and cold, but that day she felt warmer somehow. That, more than anything, was what made Rachel open up to her, and once she had, she found herself in awe again—only this time of the sweeter, gentler side of Quinn.

It wasn't like she thought Quinn was some kind of vicious horror movie villain, but Rachel had never seen her act so kind and almost…dare she say, affectionate? As much as she hated to admit it, she'd felt drawn to this sweet Quinn and enjoyed the little caresses placed on her cheeks to wipe away tears and stray locks of hair. And then Quinn's speech, the wonderful things she'd said….

Okay, so it was a lot like what Finn had said to her before she kissed him. Quinn had emphasized the point that Rachel was the leader and that glee club didn't have to be over, but Finn had seemed so…anxious when he said it. He was shaky and nervous and uncertain, but Quinn was cool and confident and passionate and Rachel lost herself in her words and her eyes and the pale column of her throat down to her protruding collarbone and…. Just the progression of her thoughts and the way Quinn had looked at her unleashed a whole horde of feelings and thoughts that Rachel never even knew existed before that moment. That was when she realized she was crushing on Quinn Fabray.

Rachel had, admittedly, freaked out. And even though she'd promised herself that she would talk to Finn about their relationship after her talk with Shelby, she didn't. Instead, she used the ride home to convince herself that she was only feeling this way because Quinn was being so nice. She wasn't used to that and it was messing her up. She almost had herself believing it when a little voice crept up in her head to point out that she hadn't exactly been checking out Quinn's fashion sense—and she had never, _ever_ been attracted to another girl before.

Not that she thought there was anything wrong with that. She'd been raised by two gay dads, and she had always believed in loving a person, not a gender. So it wasn't that she wasn't open to the idea; it was just that all the girls she met weren't really…her type. And eventually, she'd come to assume she was 'straight', since all of her crushes were always on guys.

Rachel did have to admit that she'd thought Quinn was exceptionally beautiful when they first met, but then, so did everyone. And after Quinn dumped a cherry slushie over her head, any positive feelings she may have been harboring toward the cheerleader were pretty much squashed.

After politely declining Finn's offer for a ride home, Rachel had spent the walk to her house trying to convince herself that she was only attracted to Quinn's sweet side. On Monday, everything would go back to normal. Quinn would be abrasive and rude whenever she talked to her, and Rachel would get over this little infatuation that had so suddenly taken hold of her.

By the time she finished texting her dads about the outcome of the competition, eating dinner, and showering, Rachel had herself convinced, and she'd gone to bed feeling confident that on Monday this would all be a silly story she would laugh about with her dads.

Until she had the dream.

It wasn't at all graphic. At first, it was just her and Finn having a picnic. It was perfectly lovely; there were butterflies and the sky was beautiful. But then Quinn sat next to her on the quilted blanket. Since it was a dream, Rachel thought nothing of it and greeted her pleasantly. Then Finn stood up and walked away, without a word, and Quinn distracted Rachel by entwining their fingers. Then Quinn said, "Hello."

Everything up to that point had been very dreamlike—Finn had asked if Rachel liked purple cupcakes at one point. So, of course, _all_ of it was very weird. But Quinn saying, "Hello" struck Rachel as one of the oddest things she'd ever heard. When Quinn bent down to kiss her, Rachel woke up. She was panting and overheated and she wanted to cry.

She wanted to cry because it just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to let Vocal Adrenaline win and to end glee club and to make the once delightful fantasy of Finn seem a bit dull. And, most of all, it wasn't fair to make her attracted to _Quinn Fabray_. She was ex-president of the celibacy club, for crying out loud. It had to be the sickest joke anyone had ever played on her.

Of course, she tried to brush the dream aside. It was only a one time thing. And she dreamed insane things all the time. For instance, when she finally fell asleep again that night, she dreamt that she and Mr. Schuester went to Orlando to start a penguin ranch. It was completely ridiculous, just like the almost-kiss dream.

Despite all these rationalizations, Rachel spent Sunday moping in her room and listening to her blues playlist on iTunes. Her dads tried to coax her out for dinner, but she didn't feel like leaving her cocoon.

That night, any and all delusions she'd had about this crush being impermanent in any way, shape, or form were erased. Because not only did she have another dream where Finn left—this time Quinn sat next to her in glee while Kurt and Santana did the Macarena and sang '_I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas_'—but she'd also dreamt of their first hug in the hospital hallway. Only it went a little differently.

Instead of just caressing with her delicate fingers, Quinn kissed her tears away, spreading her perfect lips over Rachel's forehead and cheeks and chin and nose and temple—everywhere except her lips. And she whispered songs in her ear just before she reached to kiss her for real and, when Rachel woke up again, she was far happier about the whole thing than she cared to admit.

On the way to school, Rachel had tried to compile a list of all the things she didn't like about Quinn. She actually came up with a lot, and by the time she arrived in the auditorium to start preparations on New Directions's gift to Mr. Schuester, she was feeling much better. She'd reminded herself that, despite everything, Quinn was mean. Quinn drew pornographic pictures of her on bathroom walls and threw slushies at her and put exploding pop bottles in her locker. Although she had a sneaking suspicion the last one had been Santana.

But just because all of that stuff happened at least seven months ago didn't mean Quinn had changed one bit.

All the confidence Rachel had been feeling came crashing down when Quinn arrived in the auditorium and smiled at her. Openly; in front of _people_. Granted, they were just glee people, but it still happened. And it was that smile she'd given Rachel after she agreed to plan glee get-togethers with her: pleased and excited and just plain happy.

Rachel was struck dumb and it took everything she had not to melt into a puddle of goo right then and there. As it was, she could only nod in acknowledgement before she had to go sit down and look at her sheet music elsewhere. After that, Rachel tried to avoid Quinn as much as humanly possible, which proved difficult since they shared two periods and lunch.

Presently, Rachel was thanking God that it was finally Spanish class and near the end of the day. Because if she had to spend much more time around Quinn, she really _was_ going to melt into a puddle of goo—whether it was from the embarrassment or something else she'd rather not think about. She was also thanking God for Finn, because he'd proved to be an excellent distraction throughout the day.

Right then, he glanced up from his paper to smile at her. She smiled back gratefully before she returned to the business of conjugating verbs. He was apparently so pleased about this he took her hand, but she was already so busy focusing on the itch to glance back she didn't really notice.

_Don't look, don't look, don't look at her, don't do it_. Rachel decided she'd been programmed not to hear the word 'don't.' She glanced back and her cheeks went bright red again. This crush was completely unfair—it was taking away her sense of control. She _liked_ being in control. And now she couldn't even stop herself from—did Quinn have a ribbon in her hair today? Oh, she did, and it was adorable baby blue. Quinn looked so beautiful in blue. Rachel wondered if—_oh, crap!_

Quinn glanced up from her worksheet and caught her gaze. Any chance Rachel might have had at passing this off as a once-over of the room as a whole was shot down when she felt heat flush through her entire face. She just knew her neck was red, as well. Rather than looking annoyed, as per usual, Quinn's lips peeled back to reveal her pearly whites and she flashed a grin at her.

It took Rachel a moment to properly recover from the shock, but when she did, she smiled weakly, turned back around, and tried to remember how to hold a pencil. She was completely screwed.

XXXXXX

"Hey, wait up!"

Rachel slowed down and glanced over her shoulder to find Finn lumbering after her. He pushed through a group of Cheerios standing in the middle of the hallway and grinned as he bounced to her side. She smiled up at him as they walked.

"Did you need a ride home?" he asked eagerly.

"My dads let me borrow the car," she explained, heaving her backpack higher on her shoulder. "They were pretty exhausted from their trip, so they took the day off. But thank you for offering." She smiled again.

He beamed back. "Listen, do you want to…you know, maybe go out Friday night? We can celebrate the end of a crazy year with ice cream and bowling, but for real this time. No ulterior motives, promise." He chuckled.

Now probably would've been a perfect time to talk about her feelings of friendship for him. But Rachel had second thoughts upon looking into those big puppy dog eyes. Finn was sweet, and even if she wasn't as crazy about him as she used to be, she still wanted to be with him. Just because she thought he was a good friend didn't mean she liked him any less. In fact, friendly feelings were probably a good thing—it meant she was growing into a more mature love.

She ignored the voice of Shelby that sprang up in her head and blurted, "Sure," before she could think anymore about it.

Finn grinned widely. "Great. How's eight?"

"Good. Eight is good."

She smiled and he swept in front of her, taking hold of her shoulders. She was so startled she ended up wincing when he ducked in to kiss her. Fortunately, Finn only pecked her cheek, smiled at her, and said, "I'm gonna do this right this time."

Rachel watched him retreat with a smile, taking a minute to think about all the things she loved about Finn. He was so sweet now that they were together. Not that he wasn't sweet before, but now he seemed more certain about it. His newfound confidence only endeared him to her more. And maybe—just maybe—when he kissed her again, she would feel that feeling again.

It had been a while since Finn had actually kissed her, but she remembered it being rather pleasant. Maybe he would kiss her again Friday night and she would remember how it used to be. She smiled, feeling better already. Finn was definitely the one for her.

"Hey there."

Rachel whipped around so fast she almost lost her balance and hit the ground. Fortunately, she'd reached her car without incident while she was lost in thought, and it saved her from an embarrassing fall. The source of the voice was two cars away and smiling in amusement. Rachel flushed again.

"Oh, hi," she managed. She tried hard not to look at Quinn, but in the end, her eyes betrayed her. Again.

"So, when are we going to do this?" the blonde asked casually.

Rachel's eyes snapped to hers and she clutched the strap of her backpack hard. Did she really just ask…?

"Oh!" She cleared her throat several times. "I-I don't know." Frankly, she'd forgotten that she asked Quinn to help her at all. Now she was deeply regretting it. If she couldn't keep it together in Spanish class, how could she possibly expect to spend an entire evening with Quinn without drooling or something else equally as mortifying? "Maybe tomorrow we could—"

"Great, your place or mine?"

Rachel swallowed hard. Did she really have to keep wording things like that?

"Uh…d-don't you have to take care of Beth?" she asked.

Quinn nodded. "I'm sure my mom would be willing, but if you don't mind…."

"No, that's great! I mean…that's fine." Rachel shifted awkwardly while Quinn smirked at her, aloof as always. This was perfect. If there was a baby there, Rachel couldn't let her eyes wander to the pale skin just above Quinn's neckline and wonder what it would feel like under her fingers—or worse, taste like. Because people just didn't feel pervy in front of babies. Except when separated by a window in a hospital, apparently.

"Great. So…I will see you tomorrow then," she said at length.

Quinn had already thrown her backpack in her car, and she was about to get in. Rachel flushed when she realized that much time had passed, but Quinn just smiled—that disarming, perfectly happy smile that dazzled Rachel every time—and nodded.

"Sounds great," she said, and slid into the front seat.

Rachel forced herself to turn around, trying to stamp down on the wild fluttering in her stomach as she tossed her backpack into the passenger seat. She put the key in the ignition and watched Quinn pull out. The blonde waved at her and the only thing Rachel could think was: _I am in huge trouble_.


	7. Adoption and Awkwardness

**A/N:** Whew! So, yes, you all noticed my continuity issue there. See? This is why I hated that chapter. Not enough Quinn perspective. ;) I promise it will all be explained—except for how Rachel knew, which is through the grape-vine. Just look down for the rest. ;)

**Adoption and Awkwardness  
**

Quinn slung her backpack over her shoulder as she headed up the walk to her house, smiling with pleasure at how easy the simple action was. No big belly to worry about smacking into or dragging her down. She still fully intended on hopping on the exercise bike later on, whether her mom liked it or not. That patch of fat over her once-glorious abs was already bothering her.

Mom, on the other hand, was under the impression that Quinn had worked too hard and been through too much this year to worry about such trivial things as exercise. She wanted her to rest as much as possible and to eat all she possibly could at every single meal. Quinn suspected this had something to do with the copious amount of guilt her mom was feeling, but if she let Mom have her way, she'd know what muscular atrophy felt like within the month. Besides, things were looking up for her.

She no longer had to cart around what felt like a hundred extra pounds; she was no longer taking advantage of Mercedes's hospitality; summer would be starting in four short days; and, best of all, she was making Rachel Berry squirm. A lot.

"Well, looks like _you_ had a good day," Mom observed as soon as Quinn came in the kitchen.

Quinn didn't fight the grin that rose up. "I did have a good day. Did the adoption agency call?"

She stepped over to the baby, who was lying in the little rocker that was once Quinn's. The baby's blue eyes immediately latched on to her and Quinn obliged when she stretched her arms out, as though reaching for her. Mom placed the lid back on the steaming pot of Quinn's second favorite meal (she was saving her favorite for the end of the week) and lifted a large yellow envelope off the island.

"No, but they sent these. They're profiles of couples who aren't opposed to an open adoption," Mom said coyly, as though Quinn wouldn't notice.

She huffed, rocking from foot to foot. "Mom, I don't want—"

"I know you don't," she interrupted. She looked like she'd planned this speech. "Now. But in ten years, you might be glad you did it. Look at you. You've already bonded." She smiled warmly.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Well, she lived in me for nine months. You don't get much more bonded than that." Her mom looked like she was about to protest, so Quinn added, "And any 'extra' bonding we've done is _only_ because you wouldn't let me give her straight to the adoption agency and _insisted_ on bringing her home, so we're sharing in our irritation. And do you have any idea how excited Puck got when I told him? He thinks he'll be able to convince me to keep her now."

"Well, maybe he'll be just as pleased with an open adoption," she reasoned.

"Whatever. Can I look at these now?"

Mom handed the envelope over and Quinn eased onto the stool across from her. The baby squirmed against her while she opened it up and pulled out a thick stack of manila folders.

"Well, this is going to make for a fascinating read, isn't it, baby?" she asked, mostly out of habit.

The baby's feet wiggled and Quinn smiled to herself.

After a half hour of reading up on the Dawsons and their eight acre property, Quinn decided it would probably be a good idea to let her mom know about Rachel's upcoming visit. Not just to prepare her, but also because she _just_ got back in the house. Being a brat wouldn't exactly help keep the roof over her head.

So, after they started eating and Mom lent a hand in reading over some of the files, Quinn braced herself and broke the silence.

"Rachel's coming over tomorrow night. I hope that's all right," she said. Best to get it all out there at once.

Mom froze, looking startled. Her jaw flapped for a moment, and then she said, "Oh. Is this a, uh…?"

"No. Not yet, anyway," Quinn admitted reluctantly. "It's for glee." She hesitated. "Are you sure you're okay with all this?"

Her mother reached across the table to take her hand. "Of course I am. I just need a small adjustment period, that's all. I am only used to you bringing home boys, after all."

"Well, don't worry. You'll have plenty of time. I don't think anything's going to happen for a while." Quinn sighed and turned her attention back to the last few pictures of the Dawson home.

"Why?" Mom asked, and she sounded so genuinely concerned that Quinn didn't even think about brushing her off.

"Because she's confused right now. She doesn't know what she wants."

"Well, if she doesn't want you, she's a blind fool," she said indignantly.

Quinn couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Mom. But try to keep in mind that she deserves a little adjustment period, too. It's not as if I've spent the last few years bringing her candy and—hey, what about these people?"

"What?"

She flourished the cover sheet of one of the profiles. "The Shaws. They live in Van Wert, which is only, what? A forty minute drive? And the guy is a pediatrician."

Mom tugged the folder in front of her. She looked approving, nodding along as she read. Her smile even grew at one point, but then she frowned and shook her head, pushing the folder back across the table.

"They have a dog," she explained when Quinn shot her a questioning look.

"What's wrong with that?" Quinn asked, scowling.

"Animals do not know how to act appropriately around infants," Mom said superiorly, "and they're filthy."

When she gave her 'subject closed' look, Quinn rolled her eyes, but shifted the Shaw folder aside—for the time being.

"So what are you girls planning on doing for glee? I thought it was going to be disbanded at the end of the year."

XXXXXX

Rachel arrived at the auditorium before everyone else, as usual. They had one last practice before they would show Mr. Schuester. Rachel hoped it would help lift his spirits, because even though _they_ could still hang out together and go to parties, glee was truly over for him. They couldn't exactly invite him to a sleepover. That would be awkward.

While she warmed up, Mercedes and Kurt arrived next and joined her. The three of them gave '_Sugar, Sugar_' a spin, which Artie and Tina joined in on when they showed up. It sounded remarkably better than the first time they all sang together. They were harmonized now, and none of them tried to outshine the others. Rachel felt a little teary-eyed just singing that.

After they'd finished it up with an impressive note from Mercedes, Rachel and Tina went about getting the stools arranged on stage, while the rest of them kept warming up and waiting for the others to arrive. Finn kissed Rachel's cheek before he went to warm up with the guys.

And after that, Quinn came in with Noah on her heels. She looked so annoyed Rachel wanted to laugh…or possibly kiss her until she smiled. Fortunately, she didn't have to do that, because Quinn spied her on stage and smiled at her again, catching her off-guard. Then Noah said something to her and she glared at him.

"Tina?" Rachel prompted nervously.

"Hm?" Tina hadn't exactly been Chatty Kathy lately, but Rachel knew it was only because she was depressed about the end of glee. Hopefully the prospect of summer get-togethers would cheer her up, but in the meantime, Rachel really, really needed to talk to someone. And Tina was still the safest person in the room.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

Tina glanced up, looking concerned. "Sure."

Rachel shifted on her stool to face the girl head on, keeping her voice low so as not to be heard by the group singing by the piano. She took a breath, and suddenly lost whatever she'd been planning on saying. Tina only looked more concerned by her silence and sat up straight. Rachel sighed.

"This is just between you and me, right?" she asked anxiously.

Tina nodded hastily. "Of course."

She struggled for words again, wetting her lips. She didn't exactly know how to broach this topic with the other girl. While she knew Tina had no problem with Kurt being gay, Rachel had no idea how she would react when faced with a fellow girl in a similar situation. She glanced anxiously at Quinn, who was currently chatting with Mercedes in the front row.

"You…you know how Quinn broke Jesse's nose and then wouldn't tell me why she did it and I was incredibly frustrated with her?" she asked.

Tina nodded. She looked like she really wasn't following where this was going, though, and Rachel abruptly decided starting that far back wasn't a good idea.

"I think I might have feelings for Quinn," Rachel blurted.

Fortunately, no one else heard. Otherwise she was sure they would've all whipped around and stared at her as though she'd grown four extra appendages and a new head. Tina was certainly giving her that look, although possibly in a less horrified way. Rachel took that as a good sign. She tried to be patient, and even bit her lip to keep from adding a whole paragraph to that statement, because Tina would definitely need time to move past the shock. But it was hard. Rachel had never been any good at patience.

Eventually, the girl let out a breath and frowned at the stage floor. "Oh."

Rachel deflated, but Tina looked up again, this time curiously.

"What makes you think that?" she asked.

Rachel bit her lip again, glancing surreptitiously at the blonde.

"I-I don't know. It's just…well, when we went to tell Noah and Quinn about what happened at Regionals, after you left, Quinn was really…sweet. And ever since then, I've been having these thoughts and feelings that I've only ever had about boys before. And while I'm not against same-sex relationships—as you know, my dads are gay—this is…_Quinn_."

Tina was frowning. "I thought you liked Finn."

She sighed. "So did I. I mean, I do. I really do. Although lately…I don't know. Lately it seems more like he's just another good friend, like Noah or Artie, because that's what he really became for me after we stopped dating. But that could be a good thing, right? I mean, feelings of friendship aren't _bad_ for a relationship." She bounced her knee, peering at Tina anxiously. "Right?"

"Of course not. Artie and I were friends long before we started dating," Tina said reassuringly.

"Right!" Rachel said brightly. "That's right, you guys _are_ really good friends. So Finn and I will be just fine. We can be friends and date each other, and maybe on Friday night I'll get that…" she took a breath, smiling as she glanced at Quinn absently, "'oh my God, I like you so much I'm going to die if I don't see you right now' feeling back."

Tina was frowning again. "You don't have that feeling?"

Rachel started. "Well, I—"

"Hey, Santana and Brittany finally decided to grace us with their presence," Artie said as he rolled up. "You girls ready?"

While Tina answered him, Rachel's eyes wandered to the two cheerleaders. Santana was shoving Noah aside as she sank down next to Brittany, who looked decidedly mussed up. Rachel shook her head and, in doing so, caught the gaze of one Quinn Fabray—again. She was smiling at her like she knew something Rachel didn't, and it made her blush.

XXXXXX

Rachel tried her hardest to avoid Quinn again that day, which actually worked out pretty well this time. Finn held her attention for most of the lunch hour, and since they were having exams, it was fairly easy to keep her eyes away from Quinn during class. If only because she didn't want them to get in trouble for cheating. The only time it was hard to avoid her was when they gave Mr. Schuester his gift.

'_To Sir, With Love_' wasn't the most romantic or erotic song in the world, but evidently it was enough that Quinn was sitting next to Rachel. The entire time, she couldn't stop glancing at the blonde, even as she reminisced about glee and how grateful she was for all it had taught her. And about Mr. Schue and how much _he'd_ taught her. It wasn't fair that it would all be over in a few days.

Just thinking about all they'd been through, and how much they were losing, made Rachel feel like bursting into tears right there onstage. It took everything she had to get through the rest of the song, but she still couldn't stop looking at Quinn. She wanted to reach out and grab onto the blonde and take comfort in her arms like she had in the hospital, but she somehow managed to restrain herself.

For her part, Quinn seemed to be in the same boat as Rachel. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, but she sniffed and held it together for just a little bit longer. And she kept looking at Rachel, too, shooting her small, reassuring smiles that lifted the brunette's spirits. Even if it was only for those few seconds.

Mr. Schuester was almost in tears by the end of the song, as was most of New Directions. His thank you was so heartfelt Rachel almost _did_ break down, but instead she hugged him. She felt the rest of them gather in around them, a few arms crossing with hers, and someone squeezed her hand. When she looked to see who it was, they had already released her.

Despite all the tears, Quinn still found a way to fluster Rachel. She was leaving the auditorium with Artie and Tina when she felt someone bump her shoulder.

"Seven, Berry," Quinn said, using the commanding tone she'd acquired during her years as head cheerleader.

Rachel blushed again. Lately, it seemed all she was doing was blushing. She didn't remember doing this much cheek-burning when she had a crush on Finn.

"Seven?" she echoed shakily.

Quinn grinned. "Unless you can't wait until then."

Then she winked and flounced away, leaving Tina to steer Rachel the rest of the way out of the auditorium, because she'd completely forgotten how to walk.

XXXXXX

Rachel didn't remember Quinn's house looking this impressive when she walked past it on her way to the park. Sure, she noticed the well-kept houses, knew that particular one was Quinn's, and that the girl definitely lived in the 'upper class' section of town. But what else was to be expected from the most popular girl in school? She had everything else, so why not the beautiful house in the perfect suburb, too?

For some reason, today it didn't seem so simple. Maybe because she actually had to go in it this time. And maybe because now she knew that Quinn didn't have it as perfect as she once thought. And perhaps also because she had a crush the size of Olympus on the girl now.

Rachel took a shaky, bracing breath and heaved her bag higher on her shoulder. She knocked twice, very rapidly, and almost bolted when there was no immediate answer. She forced her feet to stay planted to the porch, however, and told herself that she would knock again in five minutes. If there was no answer after that, then she could leave. She glanced at her watch.

The door swung open and Mrs. Fabray smiled at her.

"Oh, Rachel," she said, sounding surprised.

"I-is this a bad time? Because I don't have to—"

"No, not at all. Quinn's just in her room. Why don't you come on in?"

She stepped back to open up the doorway to Rachel, and the brunette braced herself a second time. It still didn't do any good, but she walked into Quinn the ex-captain of the Cheerios's house, wiped her shoes on the rug, and glanced around. It was as neat and clean as Rachel would've expected, but what really struck her was how nice it was. The atmosphere wasn't as…stiff as she thought it would be.

"I-I suppose I should introduce myself. We've never met properly," Rachel babbled nervously, holding out her hand to Mrs. Fabray, "although I have seen you at the occasional Parent/Teacher Conference, and we did kind of meet when Quinn went into labor, but there wasn't really a lot of time for proper introduction then." Mrs. Fabray was looking amused. "A-anyway, I'm Rachel Berry."

Mrs. Fabray nodded, as if to say she already knew, but took the offered hand politely and gave it a shake.

"Well, as you know, I'm Judy Fabray," she said, smiling.

"It's truly a pleasure," Rachel continued, wringing her hands. "I-I'm sure you hear this all the time, but your home is really lovely. I don't know that much about architecture, but i-it sort of has that rich, old-fashioned air about it. Kind of like the old Southern mansions? Only without the slaves, of course, because, well, who keeps slaves nowadays?" She laughed nervously. "B-but I mean, it's really very nice, was all I really…meant to say."

Mrs. Fabray smiled wryly. "Quinn told me you talk a lot."

Rachel flushed. "Well, it's just when I'm nervous I can't seem to shut my mouth off. O-or when I'm really excited. And sometimes—"

"Relax, Berry. No one's going to bite you." Rachel whipped around and found that Quinn had appeared from a hallway leading off of the living room.

Rachel was very aware that her expression brightened immediately upon seeing Quinn. And she desperately tried to dampen it—and not just because Mrs. Fabray was watching her. But when Quinn beamed back, there was pretty much nothing she could do about the smile that spread across her cheeks. She shot an anxious glance at Mrs. Fabray, but the woman just smiled, too.

"Well, except maybe the baby," Quinn added as she came further in, cradling Beth in her arms. "But she's kind of a toothless wonder right now, so I don't think you have much to worry about." She smirked.

After a few moments of silence, Rachel realized both Fabrays were waiting for her to say something.

"Oh," she blurted, trying very hard not to blush again. "Whew."

Quinn's smirk grew. "Well, come on." She promptly seized Rachel's arm with the hand she wasn't using to support Beth and started tugging her along. "I'd give you the grand tour, but it's pretty late, so we should probably get down to business."

Rachel gulped, tripping over her feet as Quinn dragged her away. Her hand seemed far too warm on her arm, even through her sweater. She glanced back at Mrs. Fabray, who was shutting the front door.

"It was nice meeting you!" she called back.

She didn't get a chance to find out if she replied, because Quinn was already hauling her into what Rachel could only assume was her bedroom. She released her arm to shut the door, carefully placed Beth in a white crib, and plopped into a comfortable-looking green chair at a neat desk on the far side of the room. Rachel reminded herself that there was a baby in the room several times over in order to quell the fluttering in her stomach and the warmth spreading over her body.

She was in _Quinn Fabray's_ room. It was completely surreal. The room was extremely tidy, save for a few dirty clothes hanging out of a laundry basket by the door, the backpack plopped on the end of the bed, and a couple small boxes sitting on empty shelves. It looked as though Quinn had never been away, and she said as much to the blonde.

She nodded, tossing her a brief smile. "Mom spent Sunday slaving away to make sure I would feel welcome."

Rachel nodded, returning to her examination when Quinn focused her attention back on the laptop on the orderly desk. She let her gaze slide over the white bed and the crib next to it, instead perusing the blue ribbons pinned to a corkboard. Most of them were from beauty pageants from years ago—no surprise there—but there was the occasional dance award.

There was also a picture of glee club holding their trophy from Sectionals together. That one looked like it had been added recently; nothing else overlapped it. Rachel was just relieved to see that Quinn hadn't scribbled her out of it. There were a few other pictures of Quinn in her cheerleading outfit—usually posing with Brittany and Santana—one of her and Finn dressed up for a dance, along with the usual family-on-vacation photos.

"Do you want something to drink or something?" Quinn asked, startling her. "We have pop, juice, or this low sodium, low fat popcorn, if you're hungry."

"No, thanks." Rachel was proud that she'd been able to answer that question without yet another blush. Since Quinn was once again focusing on something on her laptop, she decided to continue her investigation of the room.

As soon as she turned, she was met with the sight of—

"Jesus," she blurted in surprise.

There was silence behind her for a moment. Then Quinn said, "Oh, right."

Underneath the picture of Jesus, there was an older-looking, tan couch. Rachel couldn't imagine sitting on that couch would be comfortable for anyone—even uber-Christian Quinn. She would feel like Jesus was staring her the entire time. In fact, she already felt like that, and even though she was Jewish (or possibly _because_ she was Jewish), it was incredibly discomfiting. She shifted uncomfortably.

"I've actually been thinking about taking that down," Quinn said, and Rachel jumped again, startled at her proximity.

She'd apparently managed to walk to Rachel's side without her even noticing. The Jesus picture must've been even creepier than she thought. The blonde had her eyes trained on the picture, so Rachel turned back as well.

"Not because I don't believe in him or anything, but…it's just a little disturbing now that I've had sex on that couch."

The brunette swallowed. "That's where…?"

Quinn nodded and Rachel shifted the strap of her bag again. Well, this was awkward.

"I would just throw out the couch," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Quinn heard her anyway. "You know what? That's even better. The garbage men can deal with it." She nodded, satisfied, and smiled at Rachel again. The brunette managed a weak one, but it didn't matter anyway, because Quinn was suddenly frowning. "You know, you don't have to stand there holding your bag this entire time."

"Oh. Well…where should I put it?" She glanced around the room, but she couldn't find a spot that said 'put your bag here.' She was afraid of messing up the room.

Quinn just shrugged. "Wherever."

Then she turned and plunked down in front of her laptop again. Rachel went to set the bag next to the couch, but just the thought of sitting there, where Quinn had had…. It was a little unsettling. She shuffled awkwardly over to the bed and set the backpack next to Quinn's. She rocked on her heels awkwardly. Now what?

She tried to ease down on the bed, but popped back up uncomfortably. This was just too weird.

Rachel sighed and decided to try again, smoothing out her skirt before she sat this time. She managed to make it all the way, but now she couldn't decide how to sit. A glance at Quinn told her crossing her legs would be the ideal position. She frowned when she saw that there were wrinkles in the blankets now. She hurried to try and smooth them out, but they only shifted to a new spot.

She scowled, brow knitting in concentration as she tried again. She was so distracted with trying to fix it that she jumped up off the bed when she heard Quinn growl in frustration.

"I have no good songs," she said irritably, then turned to face the brunette. "What do you—"

Her brow furrowed when she found Rachel standing there biting her lip sheepishly, but she was mercifully distracted when Beth started crying. Quinn sighed and pulled the baby out of the crib, shooting Rachel an apologetic look when she felt Beth's diaper.

"Changing time," she muttered.

She kept Beth in one arm while she bent to dig a sizeable bag out from under the bed. She plopped it there and dug out an old blanket, which she spread out over the bed before she eased Beth down onto it. Rachel shifted idly while Quinn went about changing the diaper. She wasn't sure what she could do to help—or if Quinn even wanted the help, let alone needed it. She seemed to be doing quite well on her own, in fact.

So Rachel waited, watching Quinn and Beth with warmth spreading from her chest and a smile taking over her lips. Quinn looked like she might've been a natural mother, had the baby come a little later. As it was, she only referred to Beth as 'baby' and, for the most part, maintained a stoic expression. Even so, she was unknowingly sweet, letting Beth play with her long blonde hair and telling her what she was going to do next.

"All right. Back to the crib," she told Beth, who was now smiling as though nothing bad had happened. Quinn carefully laid her back down. "Sorry about that."

"No, you don't have to apologize. It's fine," Rachel assured her. Quinn sat before her laptop again. She hesitated. "Are you still planning on giving her up?"

She nodded. "Since Mom made me bring her home, Puck has been trying to get me to 'see reason' and keep her, but I still think it's for the best. Which is why I'm going through all these." She gestured to a large stack of folders on the corner of the desk.

Rachel's eyes widened. "Wow. Have you found any you'd consider yet?"

Quinn smiled at her yet again, and Rachel decided that that particular smile of Quinn's was so unique it deserved its own name. She decided to dub it Quinn's Dazzler, since that's exactly what it did.

"Actually, yeah."

The blonde started digging through the folders and handed one over to Rachel. The brunette was so surprised she actually gaped at her, but she gestured for her to take it. She took it hesitantly and flipped it open to read about 'the Shaws.'

Quinn didn't go back to her laptop this time, instead easing down next to Rachel when she sat near the lamp for better lighting. It took Rachel longer than it might've to read the letter and skim the rest of the profile, because she kept getting distracted when Quinn would shift her leg and their thighs would rub together. She had to will herself not to shift away, since that would've been more telling than anything. Instead, she took deep, steadying breaths and trained her formidable concentration skills on the page in front of her.

"They sound perfect," Rachel commented while she flipped through the pictures of their home, "and their house is simply gorgeous."

She glanced up, and Quinn was wearing that self-satisfied smirk that used to automatically trigger unease in Rachel's mind. It still did that—old habits die hard—but now there was a different sort of fluttering accompanying the nervousness in her stomach when she saw it. She swallowed.

"Mom's not too keen on them," she replied coolly, rolling her eyes.

Rachel frowned. "Why? The man is a pediatrician and the woman worked at a daycare for five years. They're more than qualified to be parents."

Quinn's smirk only grew. "They have a dog."

"What's wrong with that?"

The Dazzler was back at full power and Rachel blushed again. That smile was too much up close—it made Rachel desperate to close the gap between them, which simply could not happen. Quinn would freak out and never speak to her again, and she would never see that smile again or get this once-in-a-lifetime chance to be her friend. And even though she didn't understand it, Rachel wanted that chance very much.

Besides, she was with Finn. Finn was sweet and good to her. Finn loved her.

Quinn straightened, pushing her chest out mockingly. "Well," she flipped her hair and spoke in a posh, British accent, "animals are absolutely _filthy_, and they have no idea how to act around infants, dah-ling."

Rachel giggled and Quinn grinned at her, bumping their shoulders together. The brunette handed back the folder, still grinning.

"Well, if you decide on them, you have _my_ full support," she assured her, nodding to emphasize her point.

Quinn smiled again, looking genuinely pleased. "Thanks."

Their gazes locked for a pleasant moment, until Rachel had to force herself to look away. Quinn sighed.

"So…I'm assuming you have some sort of game plan to attack these pool parties and such," she said wryly.

Rachel blushed. "Well, actually, I _was_ thinking we could start with exchanging information. I'm sure I have a few emails and phone numbers you don't, and vice versa. Then we could try to come up with some solid dates based on what we know about everyone's schedules and—what?"

Quinn was smirking in that way that made Rachel's 'be wary' alarm go off. She shook her head.

"Nothing. Keep going, and I'll try to find some music we can both actually enjoy. Dork."

Quinn winked, and, for once, it didn't sound like an insult.

XXXXXX

**A/N:** Just wanted to let y'all know that the next chapter will be continuing this scene. There's a lot to cover, but this chapter was getting on the lengthy side. :)


	8. Presents, Punishment, and Pride

**Presents, Punishment, and Pride**

Quinn was seriously questioning the wisdom of her decision to have Rachel over. It wasn't that her company wasn't pleasant—far from it, actually—or that Quinn wasn't enjoying herself—_that_ was it. She was enjoying herself far too much. It was getting harder to keep herself from touching Rachel, in little and big ways. At this point, Rachel would probably eagerly accept it, but Quinn was trying to keep up this steady pace for a few reasons.

One, the baby was in the crib a few feet away. And you simply do not make out when there's a baby in the room. Two, the portrait of Jesus was really starting to disturb her now that she actually _was _having those sorts of feelings in front of it. It had been so much easier when it was Finn—with whom she felt nothing—and Puck—with whom she was too drunk to know if she'd felt anything, let alone to maintain her awareness of the Jesus picture.

And thirdly, when she finally took that step, Quinn didn't want Rachel to acquiesce only to tear away seconds later, demanding explanations. She needed to be worked up to the idea.

In the meantime, Quinn needed to employ some self-restraint. When she first brought Rachel in the room, she'd used her laptop as an excuse to put distance between them while she calmed down a bit. Instead of calming, however, she only got more excited the longer Rachel was there, and she felt hyperaware of everything the brunette did. Of course, having to change the baby's diaper helped a lot. No one could think about kissing when they smelled that.

But now, Quinn didn't have the smelly diaper or the excuse of trying to dig up some good music to distract her from the feelings of want Rachel stirred up in her. After Quinn read off a few artists, they'd quickly discovered they shared a love of 60s music and Aretha was currently crooning from Quinn's desk. The baby was fast asleep, although she would probably wake up soon, since it was nearing her feeding time.

At the moment, however, Quinn was deeply entrenched in a battle over whose house the first party should be at. Which was just as dangerous as everything else they'd been doing—if not more so—because, God, Quinn loved arguing with Rachel.

"Kurt has a pool, _and_ his house is enormous," she reasoned, her voice teetering on the edge of shrillness. "It's the perfect place for a pool party."

"And I know for a fact that you have a pool, too," Quinn shot back. "And I've seen your house. It's not exactly a dollhouse."

"My pool isn't as large as Kurt's, and by that logic, we should have it at your house," Rachel said haughtily.

"A hot tub is not a pool," she retorted. "And you already said we shouldn't have it here, in case the baby is still around."

This was Quinn's favorite part. Rachel's spine stiffened immediately and her chin rose in that defiant way she had, her eyes brightening even more, like a flame that had just been given more wood to feed on.

"I know what I said. I was merely pointing out that it makes just as much sense to have the party at my house as at yours, if the qualifying criterion is simply having a pool," she snipped tersely. "And I know that a pool isn't a hot tub, but it is rather small, as pools go."

Quinn fought a grin, replacing it with a scowl of annoyance. It worked perfectly every time; it stoked the fire and made Rachel's eyes narrow and her breaths come quicker. Quinn almost melted at the sight. As it was, she had to bury her fists in the pillow in her lap in order to stop herself from lunging across the bed and ravishing the feisty brunette.

She quirked an eyebrow. "I think a pool that small is usually called a bath tub," she said sardonically.

Rachel growled in frustration in that way that said, 'Just agree with me, damnit!' Quinn loved it.

She used to fear that, despite the cool mask she always wore that protected her from people's penetrating gazes, her eyes would give her away. She always felt like they slipped at the most impassioned—and therefore most crucial—moments. Like when she was especially angry, or especially sad, or, in this case, incredibly turned on. But Rachel never seemed to catch on to the fact that the blonde's eyes darkened immensely during their arguments, so eventually Quinn stopped worrying about it.

"You're impossible," the brunette said irritably.

"So are you. What's the big deal with having it at your house?" she persisted when Rachel folded her arms. "You said yourself your dads won't be home that weekend, and it makes sense. You're the one planning the party; you should be the one hosting it."

"Again, by that logic, we should have it here," she replied. The blonde opened her mouth to retort, but Rachel beat her to it. "And anyway, having it at my house would be an unequivocal disaster."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because no one would show up!" she exclaimed, looking half-frustrated, half-distraught.

The blonde sighed heavily, heart aching for the diva across from her. She knew exactly how she felt, but she'd only been experiencing that torment for nine months—like Mercedes, Rachel had known it her entire life. Quinn hated knowing she was part of the reason Rachel felt so alone, and she took a moment to indulge in self-loathing before she shoved the feelings aside. Now wasn't the time to hate herself for it; it was the time to make things better for Rachel.

Evidently, she'd been silent too long, because Rachel glanced back and sighed.

"I know…I know what you said the other day, but even if they secretly respect me on some level, they still think I'm annoying. Or at least they'd all rather save face by acting like they find me annoying than actually come to a party of mine," Rachel said quietly.

There was that unusual note of vulnerability in her voice, and Quinn felt privileged to hear it. Rachel was at least starting to trust her. All the same, the blonde went to refute Rachel's self-deprecating words, but the brunette once again beat her to it.

"And even if the rest of them would, you said yourself that Santana and Brittany don't feel that way about me," she said harshly, trying to cover up the hurt in her voice. "They wouldn't come to a party at my house if the president told them to."

"If I have to, I will chain them to my fender and drag them," Quinn snapped, and even though she was dead serious (well, not about chaining them to anything, but definitely the dragging), Rachel burst into laughter.

She giggled madly before saying, "I guess I know the secret to Quinn Fabray's popular parties now."

Quinn smirked despite herself, and she was about to retort—preferably with something to continue that musical laughter—when the baby started crying. Rachel immediately bit down on her lip, looking mortified.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, did I—"

"Nope." The blonde swung her legs off the bed, tossing the pillow aside. "It's just dinnertime." The baby bawled even louder when Quinn lifted her out of the crib, and she rocked her, saying, "Yes, I know, and we're going to take care of it right now."

Rachel was smiling at her oddly. Quinn really didn't know what to make of the look on her face. Rather than question it, she jerked her head to indicate that the brunette should follow and headed for the kitchen. As soon as they entered the room, Rachel started looking around the way she had when she first entered the blonde's bedroom, as though she wanted to imprint every bit of it into her memory.

Quinn let her have her time, instead focusing on getting around the baby's dinner. She had everything out—the bottle of breast milk, the small pot with a few centimeters of water in it—but Mom was the one who usually heated the bottle up. She huffed when she glanced into the adjoining living room, wherein there was no blonde head. She turned to Rachel, who was sitting at the island now, still eyeing everything with great interest.

"Would you mind holding her for a minute? I need to hunt down my mom real quick."

Rachel jumped visibly and leapt right off the stool, nodding rapidly as she did so. "N-no, I don't mind at all."

Quinn offered a brief smile as she handed the baby over, and Rachel cradled her gently against her chest, looking down at the baby in pure wonder. The baby had stopped crying so much now that Quinn had walked her around, but she still occasionally let out a little sob and Rachel rocked her carefully.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," she cooed.

The baby's feet wiggled, the way they did when she was trying to kick like she used to in Quinn's tummy. Something about the sight tugged at Quinn's heartstrings, and she started to think that perhaps an open adoption wasn't such a bad idea.

"I'll be right back," she said quietly, and Rachel gave her the biggest grin she'd ever seen on the girl. Even bigger than when they won Sectionals.

Quinn fled in order to avoid kissing her for all she was worth.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find Mom. She was in her bedroom, balancing her checkbook. A plethora of papers were strewn across the bed, and it looked like the least fun ever. Quinn was glad she hadn't gotten sucked into helping, as another of her parents's life lessons. It was usually Dad who did that, though, so she supposed it wasn't fair to assume Mom would do the same.

"Hey," she said.

Mom smiled. "Oh, hi. How are you girls doing? Do I need to make a pizza run or anything?"

Quinn smiled. "No, we're fine. But thank you for the offer."

Her mother lowered her glasses, peering at her more seriously. "So how are things really going?"

The smile turned into a grin. "Just fine. But I needed to ask you how I should heat the baby's milk."

"Oh, keep it on low, and taste-test it every few minutes," she instructed. "If you heat it too quickly, you'll scald it."

"Okay, thanks. Have fun with your checkbook."

"And you have fun with your milk."

Quinn trotted out of the room and marched down the hall, preparing to say something witty about checkbooks and bills to Rachel, but she froze when she heard her talking, very quietly. Normally, she wasn't one to eavesdrop, but something had her curious. Maybe it was the atypical softness of Rachel's voice. Maybe it was the fact that she was only talking to Quinn's baby, so it couldn't be that bad. Whatever it was, Quinn found herself straining to listen.

"I'm adopted, too, you know," Rachel was saying. She chuckled. "You're probably the only person in Lima who doesn't know that, but now you do, too. See, the reason everyone knows is that I actually have two gay dads. They're the best parents you could ask for, and I know Quinn will make sure you get the best, too." She sighed. "My mom was a teenager when she had me, too, and she didn't want me. I think she still doesn't."

Quinn almost broke at the sorrow in her voice.

"But she wants me to be happy, at least, and Quinn wants you to be happy, too. I think Quinn wants you, she just doesn't know it." Rachel chuckled a little again. "Don't give me that look. She just wants you to have the best life possible, even if she's not in it. And she's scared." She paused. "I know. I'm scared, too."

Quinn suddenly felt a little dirty for listening in on this. Before she could make it any worse, she entered the room as though that's what she'd been intending to do all along. Rachel looked up sharply and, as usual, blushed. Quinn just smiled at her and set the bottle in the little pot, turning the fire on low. She liked how Rachel looked with the baby in her arms, so she made no move to take her back.

"I was just giving Beth some pointers on being an adopted child," Rachel said jokingly.

"Oh, well, I think I can help with that." Quinn bent over the island and peered down at the baby, who was staring up at them with wide, fascinated blue eyes. "If you ever meet a blonde cheerleader, watch for slushies." She winked when the brunette gaped at her.

She smiled a little, but hurried to add, "And give her some time to come around. She'll probably be hiding a very nice person underneath all that peer pressure. Maybe."

The blonde chuckled. "But avoid trying to steal her boyfriend. That'll make her _really_ cranky."

She'd meant it as a tease to continue their game, but she knew immediately she'd said the wrong thing. Rachel looked stung at first, and then resigned as she turned her gaze down to the baby. She rocked her gently and played with the little hand that was grabbing at hers. Quinn sighed.

"I was kidding, Berry," she told her flatly. "You were supposed to laugh."

Rachel nodded minutely. "I know. I just…I feel really horrible about trying to take him from you. I'm sorry." She met her eyes sorrowfully.

Quinn shrugged. "It's not like I didn't have it coming. How many slushies have I thrown at you again?"

"That's no excuse," she said sharply, then softened. "I was being selfish and childish. I'm really sorry."

The blonde straightened, drawing out the silence before she took a breath and said, "So am I."

Rachel lifted hopeful eyes to her again, but Quinn turned before the conversation could progress, instead taste-testing the milk. It could use a minute or two more. She leaned against the counter to wait, arms folded.

"You're already a good mom," the brunette said quietly. Quinn frowned and she added, "I mean, you just really seem to know what you're doing."

She shrugged and shifted closer, leaning on the island again. "It probably didn't hurt that Dad made me spend five years babysitting to teach me the consequences of my actions." She ground her teeth. "You can see how well that worked."

A warm hand covered hers, quite suddenly in her opinion, and she had to stare at it a moment before she realized it was Rachel's.

"Quinn, it wasn't your fault," she said, and the earnest concern in her voice made the blonde's lips quiver with the urge to smile. She struggled to keep her hand still, not wanting to spook the brunette into retracting her hand. She wanted to freeze the moment and burn it into her memory forever.

She slowly lifted her gaze to Rachel's, but that seemed to snap the brunette out of it, and she abruptly pulled her hand back across the island, blushing profusely. Quinn sighed exasperatedly. This was exactly why she couldn't take it quickly, she reminded herself. Rachel was too gun-shy right now.

The blonde turned back to the milk to test it again. It was just about perfect, so she turned off the fire and came around the island. Rachel sat up, looking ready to hand the baby over.

"Do you want to try?" Quinn blurted.

She thanked God she hadn't said the wrong thing again—Rachel brightened automatically, although she looked a little uncertain.

"Are you sure? I—"

"If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have offered," she said pointedly, stepping around behind her. She handed the bottle over and Rachel tipped it, placing the rubber nipple at the baby's mouth. The baby fiddled with it for a moment before she started sucking eagerly, and Quinn guided Rachel's hand to the correct angle. "There. You want it tilted just enough so that she's not getting nothing, but she's also not drowning in it."

Rachel smiled widely. "This is so…I mean, this is really amazing."

Quinn was so busy wiping her fingers on her shirt—trying to rub out the tingles that came from touching the brunette—that she didn't even notice she'd said anything until she glanced over her shoulder, still smiling that big, rapturous smile. Since she had no idea what she'd said, the blonde simply relaxed her mouth and smiled back. She was too close to deny herself the pleasure of letting her gaze drift down over round cheeks to plump, pink lips.

Quinn's breathing became heavier and she swore her throat completely dried up. She was desperate to lean closer, but she restrained herself. She even managed to keep her tongue trapped firmly behind her teeth, keeping it from giving her away by licking her suddenly dry lips. She wiped her sweaty fingers on her shirt again, and she swore the world shrank to this kitchen, and it was only her and Rachel and her lips.

The blonde was distracted when she saw skin flex beyond the focus of her gaze. Rachel's neck relaxed as she finished swallowing and Quinn snapped her gaze up to the dangerously dark brown eyes. Fortunately for her, the brunette had been so focused on Quinn's mouth that she hadn't realized the blonde was suffering the same sweet torment. Quinn couldn't help the triumphant smirk that overtook her lips.

Rachel met her eyes, looking startled, and the blush returned. When Quinn only kept smirking, the brunette swallowed and swung her focus back to the baby. Quinn squashed her excitement as Rachel turned away, wondering how much longer she could last.

XXXXXX

Rachel shifted uncomfortably on Quinn's couch, trying to keep her eyes on the screen and David Boreanaz. Her dad was supposed to pick her up soon, so Quinn had suggested they watch a rerun of '_Bones_' while they were waiting, since they'd already spent most of the evening planning the party and arguing on and off. As per usual, Rachel found herself wishing she didn't get so flustered and aggravated when she argued with Quinn. And, as usual, it was a futile wish.

Fortunately, the prayer that Quinn hadn't realized Rachel had been staring at her mouth had apparently been answered. She hadn't said anything about it, and even though that smirk had been unnerving, the brunette decided she must've been amused that Rachel had gotten lost in thought or something.

She glanced at the blonde again, and Quinn offered her another smile when she caught the movement. Rachel returned it briefly and turned back to the large screen. She wished she had a clue what was going on in the episode. She also wished Beth hadn't been so tired after her dinner that Quinn had put her back in the crib. And, just for good measure, she wished Quinn wasn't so comfortable that she'd shucked off her shoes and socks.

Because it turned out that Quinn really was perfect in every aspect. Which Rachel didn't think was fair. Everyone was supposed to have at least one ugly feature. Noses weren't usually attractive, for example. But Quinn's was sculpted into her features as naturally as a leaf on a tree. And toes. Toes were supposed to be ugly. If anything was unsightly on a person, it was usually their feet.

But again, no. Quinn's toes were long and pale and the nails weren't too long—or too short, like Rachel's. Quinn Fabray had to have been a goddess in a past life, Rachel decided. There was no other way to explain how gorgeous she was.

When a car horn went off outside, Rachel jumped for what felt like the fiftieth time that evening and blushed for what felt like the hundredth when she realized she'd been staring at Quinn's feet. She cleared her throat when Quinn looked at her with mild concern.

"That's probably my dad," she explained as she lifted her bag.

The blonde flipped off the TV and walked her to the door. Rachel stood awkwardly on the porch and smiled at Quinn again.

"Well, thanks for having me over," she said politely. "This was…this was fun."

Quinn Dazzled at her. "Yeah, it was."

"Um…tell your mom I said bye. It really was nice meeting her." She paused uncertainly. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

The blonde nodded. "Sure thing."

Rachel nodded back and turned to trot back down the walk, almost tripping over her heels as she did so. She greeted her dad with a kiss on the cheek, barely registering his words when he asked if she'd had fun, because Quinn was waving as they drove away.

XXXXXX

It was definitely, _definitely_ time Rachel talked to Finn. Even if nothing ever happened with Quinn—which it most certainly wouldn't—last night had proved to her exactly where her affections lied. And until she got over that, it would be best if she and Finn didn't date. It wasn't fair to him to pretend to be all on board when her mind was stuck on a certain blonde ex-cheerleader.

Her stomach certainly didn't agree with this decision. As soon as she saw Finn, it started roiling angrily, and every step she took toward him made it churn harder. She was starting to wish she hadn't eaten any breakfast.

He glanced up from his locker and brightened. She tried her best to offer him the same smile, but knew she'd failed miserably. Finn didn't seem to notice anything. As soon as she was within range, he kissed her cheek and grinned at her.

"Hey," he said happily.

He was going to be crushed. _You are a bad, bad, bad person, Berry_, Rachel admonished, fidgeting with the strap of her backpack.

"How are you?"

"I-I'm okay. Listen, I—"

"I have something for you," he blurted, apparently unable to contain his excitement.

She was too startled to say anything at first. "O-okay, well—"

"I wanted to give it to you for your birthday, but I didn't want to seem like I was trying to steal you from Jesse or anything," Finn said rapidly, digging in his locker. "And then I thought it would be a nice gift for when we won Regionals, but since that didn't work out, it's just a surprise gift, I guess." He smiled his cute smile.

Rachel felt absolutely miserable, but she pulled a small smile up for him. He buried his head in his locker, and then finally came out with a black three-ring binder. Her brow furrowed. He got her a binder? Then he handed it over, looking enormously proud of himself, and she took it slowly, her heart catching in her throat when she saw the cover.

He'd had it custom-made. There was a gold star on the front with the name 'Rachel Berry' written in cursive, and the side had 'Property of R.B.' written in gold lettering. It took everything Rachel had not to burst into tears, and she knew she absolutely could not break up with him now. Not this minute, and possibly not ever.

"I…." Finn smiled at her and she pushed up on her tiptoes to hug him. He wrapped her in his long arms and she sighed into his shoulder. "Thank you, Finn." She had to wipe her eyes when she lowered herself to her heels again. "This is…this is really sweet."

Finn beamed, so eager to please it broke Rachel's heart. "Anything for my girl."

XXXXXX

Okay, Finn Hudson was just playing dirty now. And it was pissing Quinn the hell off. He wasn't supposed to learn how to do things right and be a real boyfriend. He was supposed to stay clumsy and mess up and _not_ confuse Rachel into thinking he was what she wanted. Because he wasn't. There was no way Rachel could look at Quinn the way she did and still want Finn.

As soon as Quinn had seen that binder and the way Rachel's hands moved reverently over it, she knew something had changed. And then Finn came in with that dumb, proud grin and Rachel moved her books off the binder, and that happy gold star was there _mocking_ Quinn. Playing on Rachel's love for gold stars was not fair.

And fine, so Finn didn't actually know he was in competition with Quinn, but it still pissed her off. In fact, she was in such a foul mood that for the rest of the day, she felt like she was captain of the Cheerios again. Students parted like the Red Sea for her and cleared their seat if it looked like she wanted to sit there, and Jewfro winced when she came his way, as though afraid she was going to beat him up. Quinn might, one day, but at the moment she was furious with Finn Hudson.

Rachel had looked pretty frightened when she saw how angry Quinn was—she looked like she used to when the blonde threw slushies at her, like she was bracing herself for the explosion of cold wetness. Quinn had managed a smile to reassure her, and Rachel relaxed, and Quinn plotted.

There was no freaking way Quinn Fabray was going to be topped by Finn Hudson. As much as she wanted to hit him like she had St. Bastard, he hadn't hurt Rachel. So she couldn't resort to violence. Unfortunately. She had to think of something else. And it came to her, during lunch.

Technically, students weren't allowed to eat outside the cafeteria, but she hadn't been in the mood to see Rachel and Finn holding hands at the glee table. Of course, she was never in the mood for that, but today if she saw it she feared she might actually drag Finn out of his chair by the ear and overturn the trash bin on his head. So instead she went to an empty classroom and listened to the Supremes, trying to cool off.

When Diana started crooning to '_You Keep Me Hanging On'_—that's the moment it hit her. Rachel loved 60s music, just like Quinn, and what she loved even more? Singing.

Quinn sat bolt upright in her chair, pausing the song and scrolling through her iPod in search of the perfect song. When she found it, she grinned eagerly and pressed 'play', even as she snatched up her bag and trotted out of the classroom. She bobbed her head absently to the rhythm as she went to the bleachers, where she knew two cheerleaders would be eating lunch and snuggling. When she caught sight of them, she grinned, tugging her ear buds out, and swept in front of them.

"Hey, San, I need to borrow your girlfriend," Quinn said commandingly.

The Latina straightened, scowling. "She's not—"

"When you make the guy wait in the car, you aren't dating _him_," she said pointedly. Santana glowered intently, looking ready to protest and possibly tear out the blonde's hair. "But I didn't come out here to argue with you. I need your help, Brit."

"Does this have something to do with Rachel?" Brittany asked suddenly, startling both the Latina and the blonde. "Cause as much as I like you, Quinn, I don't do girl threesomes. It's bumpy."

Quinn wrinkled her nose in disgust. "No! No, no. Just no. But it does have something to do with Rachel."

Santana looked surprised, then disgusted. "Don't tell me you have a thing for the Whiny Wonder."

"_Don't_ call her that." Quinn glared hard at her, the way that used to get the Latina to back off in a second. Instead, her hackles rose in response.

"She does," Brittany said, oblivious to the tension.

Quinn was dumbstruck. No one else had known. Not even Puck knew until he saw how she clung to Rachel when she went into labor. And even that hadn't been clue enough for the rest of them. They'd just assumed she was in a lot of pain and she was willing to hold onto anything, as she'd told Puck. But _Brittany_, of all people, somehow knew?

"How did you know that?"

"You, like, put little hearts around your drawings of her and stuff," Brittany supplied.

"That did always make me feel inexplicably uncomfortable," Santana said thoughtfully.

Quinn felt her cheeks going pink. "Fine, whatever. I still need your help. You willing?"

"What am I helping with?" But Brittany got up to walk with her.

Santana tagged along, if only because she wanted to hear this.

"It seems Finn has learned how to be a boyfriend," Quinn explained irritably.

"Oh, yeah, that stupid little binder," Santana hissed. "Lame ass present."

"Well, Rachel loves it. I want to perform a song in glee for her," she continued, smirking despite herself at the Latina's disdain. "But you know I'm no good at choreography."

"That's not true," Brittany said immediately.

"Well, not as good as you," she amended. "And I want this to be perfect."

Brittany exchanged a glance with Santana, who shrugged, rolling her eyes. Quinn sighed.

"Come on. You know I'd help you if you wanted to do something for Santana," she pled. She was using the girl's weak point, relying on old tactics, but she didn't care if it got her what she needed.

The cheerleader glanced at the Latina and said, "Okay."

Quinn almost hugged her, but she was interrupted in her grinning match with Brittany when Santana suddenly snarled, "What the hell is Splint-Face doing here?"

She turned with Brittany, disbelieving, but there he was. Jesse St. Rat was running toward them, bending at his stomach and panting heavily as he went. His splint was still in place and Quinn grimaced when it glinted off the sun, blinding her momentarily. His t-shirt was drenched in a 'u' of sweat going down his chest, and Quinn wondered why she hadn't seen him before.

"Hey, Mouth-Breather!" Santana called out, exchanging a vicious grin with Brittany.

St. Sweaty lifted his head abruptly and stiffened visibly before he limped the last few feet to them. When he arrived, he winced and bent at the waist, bracing his hands on his knees while he panted.

"What are you doing on my track, pansy?" the Latina demanded sharply, planting her hands on her hips.

He panted before glaring at Quinn. "Thanks to you…Rachel told Ms. Corcoran about the egging." He wheezed. "She made a deal with Sylvester…now I have to come here…every time Vocal Adrenaline rehearses."

Santana and Brittany were laughing, and Quinn grinned widely.

"What do you know? A woman after my own heart," she purred coolly.

St. Moron's expression darkened as the girls laughed, his eyes filling with hatred that wasn't unfamiliar to Quinn. The word he spat at her was. "Dyke."

Quinn's grin evaporated and she hauled back her fist. He flinched away from the hit he was sure was coming, and she took advantage of that. She kicked him hard in the shin—thank God for not being pregnant—and he fell hard to his knee. She wanted to beat the tar out of him, but seeing him fall like that gave her enough satisfaction to back away when Brittany tugged at her arm.

"Bitch!" he snarled, yelping in pain again.

She hadn't kicked him hard enough to break it, but he would have a nasty bruise. Santana was cackling.

"ST. JAMES!" Coach Sylvester's voice bellowed over a loud speaker. "I WANT TO SEE LESS SOCIALIZING AND MORE RUNNING!"

He sighed and got to his feet, brushing off and sending another nasty glare Quinn's way before the two cheerleaders led her from the scene. Santana grinned.

"I might be able to get used to this liking-Rachel thing after all," she commented, and Quinn couldn't help a small smile.

"YOU THINK THIS IS HARD? TRY FIGHTING SIX NAVY SEALS WITH AN EXACT-O KNIFE—_THAT'S_ HARD!"


	9. Surprise, Surprise

**A/N:** I'm so glad everyone is still enjoying. :) There are just a couple more chapters to suffer through before we get to some real development, so hang in there for me. ;)

**Surprise, Surprise**

"Kick, spin, _down_, and up."

Quinn huffed. "I know, I get it," she snapped, ignoring the glare Santana sent her way. "I just need to…run through it again."

"No, you're just out of shape," Santana said. "Should've kept working out while you were pregnant, Q."

"_You_ try hopping on an exercise bike when you're carrying a litter," the blonde bit back.

"Let's try again; you'll get it," Brittany assured her.

Santana lowered her hackles long enough to skip to the beginning of the song and hit play again. Quinn followed Brittany's lead through the movements, bracing herself for the parts that made her calves burn. As much as she hated to admit it, Santana was right. She was out of shape, despite her now-nightly exercise routine, and it hurt. She could only hope a summer of rigorous training would help with that.

"Are you going to be able to do this and sing?" Santana asked. She looked bored.

Quinn rolled her eyes. At least she'd gotten used to these sorts of distractions. Being a cheerleader had trained her body well—she internalized the routines so well she could keep moving while she focused her mind elsewhere.

"Yes, it'll be fine," she hissed, shaking her shoulders with Brittany.

"You only have today and part of tomorrow to practice, you know," the Latina continued, eyeing her form.

"And we spent most of last night running through it. I'll be ready," she retorted.

Brittany glanced over her shoulder. "Ready?"

Quinn nodded, bracing herself for the instrumental part. It was always the most grueling.

"Did you really have to pick such a sappy song?" Santana blurted again, leaning against the piano.

"It's not sappy," she panted. "It's 60s, and it's the most fitting song I could think of. And if you're planning on singing backup, you're going to have to do this, too." She grunted as she did the kick.

She shrugged. "I'm in shape."

Quinn rolled her eyes again and spun around with Brittany, then forced her body down. She nearly had it this time, but just as she was trying to pop up without the use of her arms, she lost her balance and fell back on her rump. Santana cut the music and Brittany rushed to help her up. Quinn huffed, but took the offered hand and brushed off as she stood.

"I'm fine," she muttered grumpily.

"What happened?" someone asked from the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Quinn was surprised to find Tina wheeling Artie into the choir room. Brittany and Santana looked to her to speak, and she realized she hadn't actually specified whether or not everyone else was allowed to know. She thanked her lucky stars Santana hadn't taken her lack of direction to mean, 'Tell everyone you've ever met.'

"I'm fine," she reiterated, louder this time. "Just haven't quite got this new routine down yet."

Artie frowned, glancing up at a confused Tina. "What new routine? I didn't know we were doing a song."

"We're not," she said firmly. "I am."

They both looked surprised.

"You are what?" Mercedes asked curiously as she came in, Kurt in tow.

"Quinn's doing a song," Tina informed her.

Mercedes looked shocked. "You are?"

"Oh, do you need help designing costumes?" Kurt asked automatically. "I just got a new catalogue with…."

Quinn tuned him out. He _would_ think of fashion while everyone else was wondering what the hell was going on. She couldn't really blame them. Since she was kicked off the Cheerios, she hadn't made much of a bid for solos, and she never prepared her own songs, with the exception of her funk number. Plus, glee's last meeting was tomorrow. So it was a little last-minute.

"Yes, and no, thanks. I don't think I need a costume for this," she replied, shaking her head.

Kurt pouted.

"Well, what brought this on?" Mercedes prompted, seating herself next to Tina.

Brittany and Santana were grinning at Quinn. She glared at them.

"Nothing. Just don't tell anyone else I'm doing a number, please. I'd rather—"

"You're doing a number? What is it?" Puck swung his arm around her shoulder. "You're gonna wear a bikini, I hope."

She smacked him in the arm. "First of all, does everyone have to keep doing that?" She glared at Mike and Matt, who scurried to their seats. "And secondly, no. Why on earth would I wear a bikini?"

"Duh. It's almost summer. Besides, don't you want to show off that newly un-babied belly?" he teased, pinching her side.

Quinn smacked him again and tore away, shaking her head. "Not particularly. Now, could you please try to keep this to yourselves? I don't want anyone to know yet."

"Um, Quinn, I don't know if you've noticed, but like two-thirds of us know now," Mercedes pointed out.

"Well, I still don't want the other third to find out," she snipped, folding her arms irritably.

"What is everyone doing here, anyway?" Santana asked, slipping into a chair beside Brittany. "We're not supposed to meet until tomorrow."

"Mr. Schue called an emergency meeting," Puck explained.

"Emergency? What about?" Quinn asked, frowning.

"You'll find out in just a minute," Mr. Schuester announced cheerfully as he walked in, ushering Finn and Rachel into the room.

Quinn huffed. Why did everyone have to keep doing that? She snatched up the player they'd been using to practice with and plunked in the empty seat next to Kurt. Rachel glanced back when she sat with Finn, and Quinn offered her a small smile, which the brunette replied to with one of her own before turning to face Mr. Schue.

He rubbed his hands together, looking more chipper than he had since Regionals. What the heck was going on? She glanced at Mercedes and Kurt, who looked just as puzzled as she felt.

Mr. Schue sighed, grinning. "We've got another year."

It took a minute for the words to process. Then Tina screamed, and it was all hugs and tears and laughing from there. Quinn leapt up and hugged Mercedes, mussing up Kurt's hair when he joined in, and she welcomed the embrace Puck wrapped her in. She felt the relief coursing through her like a refreshing drink after a ten-mile run. Glee club wasn't over. She was so happy she almost cried. And then Rachel bounced from Tina's arms into Quinn's without seeming to realize it.

It was the first time she'd gotten to hug Rachel since that day in the hospital, and even though that had been the only time she'd hugged her, Quinn's body melted around the girl in relief. It felt like it had been ages since she got to feel Rachel's body pressed flush against hers, rather than the few days it had actually been. Quinn couldn't stop herself from taking a whiff of vanilla-scented hair, or from squeezing the brunette for all she was worth when she felt her arms start to slide down from around her neck.

Rachel squeezed back before she dropped away, smiling and blushing and looking so adorable Quinn wanted to sweep her right back up in her arms. Instead, she just smiled warmly at her, still holding lightly to her forearm. Everyone else was too busy celebrating to notice their uncharacteristic behavior—even Finn, who snatched his girlfriend's free arm and tugged her away and into a second hug just moments later.

Quinn nearly growled at him, but then Rachel wrenched away after a moment to stand at the head of the room, leaving Finn to exchange another round of high-fives with the guys.

"Okay, you guys," she said commandingly, eyes lit up, "I think this is the perfect opportunity for us to start rehearsing for next year's Sectionals immediately—"

"Guys," Mr. Schuester interrupted, though he was smiling in amusement with the rest of them. "You've all worked really hard this year and you deserve a break!" He ushered Rachel back to her seat, and the brunette just smiled, unfazed. "Take the summer off. Have some fun!"

Quinn glanced at Rachel. "Speaking of which, Mr. Schuester…."

As expected, the brunette whipped around to face her and Quinn raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Oh! Right." Rachel smiled at her and turned back around.

Mr. Schue frowned in puzzlement. "Yes, girls?"

Rachel glanced back at Quinn again and the blonde nodded reassuringly. "Well…Quinn and I would like to extend an invitation to our fellow glee clubbers." Everyone glanced between the two of them. "We decided that glee club didn't have to be over just because some judges said so, and we started the process of planning a few parties for over the summer to, you know, kind of keep us all together. But since glee club isn't ending, I guess this can be a celebration party." She grinned.

Mr. Schue glanced at Quinn in disbelief. She raised her chin, daring those staring at her—including Mr. Schue—to say something. He smiled in pleased surprise.

"Well, that's great," he said sincerely. "I'm really proud of you two."

"When is this party?" Puck asked, breaking the silence that followed.

"Oh, next Friday, around twelve, we said?" Rachel turned in her seat again and Quinn nodded in confirmation. "And it's at…actually, we never decided whose house it would be at, did we?"

"Yes, we did, because I won, remember? It's at your house," she retorted, smirking when the brunette stiffened.

"You did not win. It was Beth's dinner time, so we never finished arguing," she corrected.

"And I was the last one to make a good point. Therefore, I win," Quinn replied haughtily.

"You were not!" she said indignantly, and Quinn almost laughed. "The last thing _you_ said on the topic was—"

"All right, girls," Mr. Schue cut in, and Rachel whipped around before shrinking down in her seat.

Finn was staring at Rachel like she was crazy; Quinn cast a quick glance over the rest of them. They were wearing almost identical expressions to Finn's, with the exception of Puck and Brittany. And Santana just looked annoyed. Frankly, Quinn had forgotten they were there

"So, everybody knows now. No excuses not to show up," Mr. Schue said jokingly, drawing their attention away from the two girls. "Oh, and one more thing before you go. I have a bit of a surprise for you guys."

Quinn pretended not to notice Mercedes staring at her while the rest of them chattered interestedly.

"That wasn't the surprise?" Finn asked.

He laughed. "Well, it was, but this one's a little different. A new member has just been added to the McKinley staff, and she wanted to introduce herself to you guys first. Let's have a round of applause for—" he spread his arm, and through the door came "—Ms. Corcoran!"

XXXXXX

Rachel straightened immediately when Shelby entered the room, skin going pale, as though she'd just seen a ghost. The rest of New Directions started clapping slowly, most looking too surprised to put their hearts into it. Finn Hudson clapped hesitantly, though he occasionally cast anxious glances Rachel's way. It didn't take Shelby long to find Quinn Fabray in the group.

The blonde was the only one not clapping besides Rachel, and she was shifting forward in her seat, keeping her eyes locked on Shelby's daughter. Her eyes were filled with such deep concern Shelby wondered how Rachel—or really, anyone in this room—missed it.

She directed her attention back to the kids, waving her hands dismissively.

"Thank you, all of you," she began, and they all gradually quieted down. She sighed. "Well, I realize this must be a shock for most you. I know our history hasn't exactly been pleasant, but I certainly hope we can move past that."

Quinn's sharp eyes landed directly on her, and Shelby could see how Rachel thought her intimidating. Rachel, in the meantime, shifted uncomfortably in her chair, avoiding the eyes of her fellow glee clubbers. Finn kept looking between them with wide eyes.

"You're not going to be our new co-captain, are you?" the boy in the wheelchair—Arthur, she thought—blurted. He looked a little disturbed at the idea, and when she arched an eyebrow, he hurried to add, "It's just that…the last co-captain experience we had wasn't the best."

"It was awful," the blonde cheerleader said. "I couldn't remember any of the words." Definitely Brittany.

"That's because we didn't have any," the boy who could only be Noah said grouchily.

Shelby sighed. "No, I'm not your new co-captain. After Vocal Adrenaline goes to Nationals, I am resigning as their coach."

"What?" Rachel looked aghast. Quinn's eyes switched to her again, going from cold to warm in an instant.

"And I'm coming here to be the new choir teacher," she continued. She would get to Rachel in just a moment, and she tried to reassure her of this with her eyes. "Mr. Schuester will still be your glee club coach, but I hope to see you all in my class next year."

"I think the extra vocal training will keep us ahead of the game," Will added from behind her. "And we could always use tips on how to beat Vocal Adrenaline."

A few of the kids chuckled.

"So, what do you think? Am I welcome?" Shelby asked, winking.

Mercedes was the first to speak. She glanced around at her fellow glee clubbers, smiled, and said, "I think we're all down with that."

The rest of them laughed, and Shelby couldn't help but chuckle along with them. She glanced back at Will and he grinned at her, stepping forward.

"Well, guys, I think that's it until tomorrow. Unless you had something more you wanted to say to them, of course," he said, gesturing to give her the floor again.

She shook her head. "That's it for me. But Rachel, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Her daughter swallowed visibly before she nodded mutely. Finn frowned uncertainly at her, as though he had no idea how to interpret her reaction. Rachel stood without looking at him and stepped up to Shelby. She offered what she hoped was a comforting smile and ushered her to the door. When they arrived at the doorway, Rachel stopped and looked back, and Shelby caught Quinn smile a little before her daughter was at her side again.

They were silent as they walked down McKinley's halls together. All the students were either in lunch or a class, it appeared, so they had the building to themselves. Shelby didn't know what to say, or how to say it. She was wrong? She was sorry? What should come first?

Fortunately, after a while, the Corcoran impatience kicked in and Rachel said quietly, "I thought you loved coaching glee."

Shelby sighed. "I did. But I've grown tired of it. It's not what I want to do anymore."

"Then why come to McKinley? Why didn't you just…stay at Carmel and teach their choir class?" she asked warily, eyes narrowing.

"First of all, because they already have a choir teacher," she explained slowly. "I was teaching English, which may possibly have been the worst decision ever made by a principal. I even hated that class in high school."

That earned her a small smile, but then Rachel asked, "How did you even get a job here? The whole reason glee almost ended was because Principal Figgins won't loosen his purse strings."

"Let's just say Principal Figgins finds it hard to resist when two women with consecutive wins under their belts and a nasty habit of blackmailing ask him to do something," Shelby said slyly, and Rachel smiled again, a little wider this time.

"Ms. Sylvester helped you?" She shook her head in disbelief. "No way."

"We've come to a mutual understanding," she informed her, smiling when Rachel laughed.

"So what was the other reason?" she inquired after a comfortable moment of silence.

"Hm?"

"You said 'first of all.' Was there something else?"

"Oh, yes. Well, the other reason…." Shelby sighed, getting butterflies. She stopped, folding her arms, and Rachel copied the movement. "Rachel, ever since we said goodbye that day, all I've wanted was to start a new family of my own. Adopt a child an-and start a life." Her daughter looked away. "I was convinced I'd missed my shot with you. Then you came to see me. I knew instantly something was wrong. Somehow, I just knew.

"It opened my eyes, Rachel. You told me you needed me, and now I can see that…I need you, too." Rachel's brown eyes snapped up to meet hers in stunned surprise. "So, I'm putting off adopting for a while, and I'm coming to McKinley so that I can spend more time with, and get to know, the wonderful daughter I already have." She smiled.

Rachel's eyes glistened and Shelby put her arms out hesitantly. The caution was unnecessary. Her daughter launched herself into her arms and squeezed her tight, letting out a little grunt at the effort. Shelby smiled and rubbed her back when she heard her sniffle, feeling happier than she had since she first saw Rachel at Sectionals.

When Rachel eased back onto her heels, she wiped her eyes and chuckled. Shelby smiled and linked their arms, leading her down the hallway.

"So…why don't you tell me what I've missed since Regionals?" she prompted, eager to get started. "Are you still dating Finn?"

Rachel bit her lip sheepishly. "Yes. I-I really was going to talk to him about everything, but…things keep getting in the way. He seems so happy, and I don't want to hurt him. He's such a good guy, and I-I really could do much worse. And have." She sighed.

"All the same, if you don't feel that way about him anymore, don't you think he deserves to know?" Shelby asked, as gently as she could. Rachel ducked her head. "Honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I just know, from experience, that if you settle for him, you're not the only one settling. Neither of you can be happy if he's not what you really want. And, in a way, that's worse than hurting him by breaking up with him."

Her daughter chewed on her lower lip, looking torn. Shelby waited patiently, since she wasn't sure what else to do—she could only assume Rachel would eventually gather the courage to say whatever she was thinking. At length, she did.

"What if…what if you know you can never have the person you really want?" she inquired quietly. "Are you just supposed to stay alone forever?"

She considered that. "Well, who do you really want?"

Rachel blushed fiercely. "I…God, this is horrible." She turned away, refusing to look at Shelby while she said it. "I like Quinn."

Shelby wanted to laugh, but she figured Rachel would take it completely the wrong way, so she held it in. Instead, she smiled and said, "What's so horrible about that?"

Rachel whipped around in surprise. "You…you're not freaked out?"

"Actually, I'm a little relieved you figured it out for yourself."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

"Rachel, it was pretty obvious from what you said the other day that you've liked Quinn for a while," she said cautiously, waiting for an explosion of protests.

Instead, her daughter just stared. "Oh. But you're not freaked out?"

"Don't forget that you're talking to the woman who gave her daughter to two gay men."

She smiled a little again. "Oh."

"Now, what's so horrible about liking her? And why do you think it'll never happen?" she coaxed.

"Because…do you remember me telling you Quinn was the captain of the Cheerios before she got pregnant?"

Shelby nodded.

"Well, what I didn't tell you is that Quinn was also president of the celibacy club." Rachel let her absorb that before she went on. "Quinn has always been very…she's like the paradigm of virtue at this school, although that image is sort of ruined now that she got pregnant, but she only slept with Noah because he got her drunk—or at least that's what he told me—so it really wasn't her fault, which means that she really _is_ as moralistic as she seems. Honestly, if she were a superhero, her name would be Super Christian Cheerleader or something to that effect, because she's just that wholesome." She took a breath. "So you see why nothing will ever happen."

She pretended to consider that, then shook her head. She laughed when Rachel said, "Do the words 'super Christian' mean anything to you?"

"Honey, just because she's a Christian doesn't mean she's against it," Shelby soothed.

"_Super_. Super Christian. If she knew what was going on in my head, she'd throw a slushie at me, have Noah toss me in the dumpster, and run screaming," she said intensely.

"How do you know that becoming pregnant hasn't shifted her perspective a little?" Rachel looked about to protest again, so Shelby held up a hand. "I'm not saying you should profess your undying love to her right this minute. All I'm saying is that you should give it a chance. Ordeals like the one Quinn has gone through don't leave you unchanged."

Rachel frowned, but she at least looked like she was contemplating it, rather than tossing her words completely aside. Shelby smiled to herself. This was easier than she'd thought it would be.


	10. A Song and a Sour Suitor

**A/N:** So, I don't like putting song lyrics in my stories, because I think it tends to take away from the mood. If you would like to listen to the song, I've checked and it is on YouTube—just type in 'Dusty Springfield I Only Want to Be With You' and the first one that comes up is an excellent track. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

**A Song and a Sour Suitor**

"Rachel's gonna _die_."

Quinn whipped around to find Brittany and Santana awaiting her, and she blushed pink at the other blonde's emphatic approval of her outfit. When Kurt asked if she needed a costume, she hadn't been all that concerned about how she dressed—mostly she was just concerned about not falling on her butt in front of everyone. Again.

But that morning, the nervousness hit with a vengeance and she ended up raiding her closet in search of the perfect apparel. It took her so long to decide her mother ended up helping, and when Quinn finally left for school, Mom was hard at work putting her closet—and her dresser—back to rights. After receiving approving looks from Mom and the baby, Quinn had finally picked black, strapped high heels—which were an adjustment, since the only time she'd worn high heels during her pregnancy was for glee—a spring yellow, strapless dress that hung down to just above her knees, and a cream-colored sweater-jacket.

She surveyed herself anxiously. She hated it when she felt like this—so nervous and excited she sounded like a ten year old girl again. But she couldn't help it. "You think so?"

Brittany nodded enthusiastically. "Totally."

Quinn fell into step beside them, letting out a shaky breath.

"You made sure to run through the number in it, didn't you?" Santana asked, eyeing the high heels doubtfully.

Quinn sighed. "By the time I picked it out, I didn't have time. I was hoping we could try it during lunch, and if I end up falling on my butt again, I still have tennis shoes in my locker."

"They're white, right?" Brittany asked. Quinn nodded and Brittany smiled approvingly.

"So you have the routine down wearing normal shoes, right?" Santana put in, frowning. Quinn went to answer, but she added, "Because you know if you do this any less than perfectly, Rachel is not going to be impressed."

The butterflies that tore through her stomach that morning returned full force. Quinn grimaced, because it was true. Rachel demanded excellence of herself and everyone else, and while it was occasionally irritating, Quinn also admired the quality. She was the same way when she was captain of the Cheerios; she never asked them to do anything she wouldn't do herself. But this was one of the times when it was bad. What if she couldn't hit the high note? What if she lost her balance again? What if she—_wait a minute_.

"Why are you giving me tips?" she asked crossly. The butterflies were all her fault.

The Latina shrugged. "I'm trying to make you nervous."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I don't need your help getting worked up over this. I'm doing just fine on my own," she grumbled, staring at her feet.

"Hey, Midget."

Quinn frowned and glanced at Santana, then followed the Latina's gaze to one Rachel Berry. The brunette seemed frozen in place, books in one arm and locker door held in her free hand, eyes trained somewhere near the ground, and slack-jawed. Brittany nudged Quinn's arm and winked, and she realized then exactly what Rachel was staring at. The butterflies dashed out of her stomach and she straightened, feeling much better.

"Hey, Berry," she called.

Rachel shivered, as though she had a chill, and met Quinn's gaze. And promptly turned so red even her neck was flushed. Quinn smiled widely at the brunette, feeling the confidence seep back into her walk with every step.

"H-hi, Quinn. Santana, Brittany," Rachel said rapidly, shutting her locker. "It's a good morning, isn't it? Birds chirping, sun shining, and all that. Too bad we have to be in school, but at least it's the last day. Well, look at the time. I have to get to an algebra exam, and I'm sure you all have classes to go to, as well, so I probably shouldn't hold you up any longer than I already have." She shifted awkwardly. "Bye."

And then she bolted down the hallway before any of them had a chance to speak. Quinn let a self-satisfied smirk rise up, one that often scared the life out of freshmen in her days as head cheerleader. Brittany linked their arms and Santana laughed.

"Looks like you don't need tips, after all, Q," the Latina observed.

XXXXXX

Finn slid into the seat next to Rachel, panting from the exertion of running all the way from the football field to the choir room. He kissed her cheek and she jumped. She'd been doing that a lot lately, especially today. And she was so distracted during lunch she didn't even hear him asking her if she'd prepared a song for the last day. She even ended up throwing away half her lunch, which was unlike her.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Rachel shot him her brightest smile. "Yep. Peachy keen. How about you? How was your last class?"

Finn smiled and slid his arm around her shoulders. There was his girl.

"It was all right. Exams always suck." She nodded understandingly and he said, "But we got out early, so that was cool. Threw the ball around on the field a little." He smiled again.

Rachel smiled back and smoothed out her skirt when Mr. Schue stepped to the front of the room.

"All right, everyone, last day."

Matt whooped and everyone started clapping until Mr. Schue quieted them down, though he was laughing, too.

"Now, I didn't expect anyone to prepare anything," he said, glancing at Rachel. When she didn't say anything, he went on, "So we can all just have some fun today, but first…I've got a surprise for you."

"Another one?" Mercedes asked. "What are you, like, trying to make up for everyone's birthdays?"

Mr. Schue chuckled. "No. You guys sang to me the other day and I'd like to return the favor. Puck?"

He beckoned him and turned to pull a tiny guitar thing out of its case, while Puck grabbed his real guitar. They pulled up stools and New Directions was once again privileged to hear Mr. Schuester sing. Finn personally thought he never should've quit—he could've made it big—and he knew Rachel felt the same way. Even when she resented him for constantly trying to destroy her career, she'd said he could've made something of himself if only he hadn't quit.

But they were both sort of glad he didn't, because otherwise he may not have been their glee coach. And that would've sucked majorly.

Finn took Rachel's hand midway through the song, and she smiled at him when he beamed at her. He could tell she was enjoying it. She had that rare content look on her face, as though she could sit there and listen to Mr. Schue and Puck harmonizing forever. Maybe even fall asleep to their voices.

When they were finished, everyone clapped as hard as they could and joined Kurt in giving them a standing ovation. Mr. Schue waved off their applause, but he was grinning, and he and Puck took a bow before putting their guitars back away. After Puck took his seat with the rest of them, Mr. Schue clapped his hands together for attention again.

"All right, so…what do you guys want to do? Work on an old number? Try something new?" he offered, gesturing as though to weigh the options in his hands.

"Mr. Schuester?"

Finn turned and frowned at Quinn, who had her hand raised. Everyone else looked surprised for a minute, too, but they quickly got over it and almost looked as though they were expecting it. Finn exchanged a glance with Rachel, who looked just as confused as he felt. Thank God he wasn't the only one.

"Uh, yes, Quinn?" Mr. Schue said uncertainly. Apparently he was confused, too.

"I sort of prepared a number. I was hoping I could perform…." Quinn was fiddling with her sleeves.

"Oh, well, that's great. Why didn't you say so?" Mr. Schue beamed at her. "Come on down; show us what you've got."

Quinn took a bracing breath and stood, winding her way through the chairs. Finn glanced at Rachel again, but she was looking at Quinn in stunned surprise. Santana and Brittany brushed past them and joined Quinn at the front. Mr. Schue sat next to Rachel and smiled when Quinn returned from whispering her choice to the band.

"Did you do this for any reason in particular, Quinn, or was it random inspiration, or…?" Mr. Schue asked before she started. "If you don't mind my asking."

Quinn looked torn, but Santana leaned over her shoulder and said in a tone that could only be described as dirty, "It's for her _lover_."

Rachel shifted in Finn's peripheral view; he reached over and took her hand again.

The blonde glowered at the Latina. "Shut up. It's time to sing." But she didn't deny it.

Finn smiled in amusement. Quinn took a deep breath and positioned herself directly between Santana and Brittany before she tossed a nod at the band. They blared the first notes and the three girls immediately started swaying, shifting on what looked to be their tiptoes—at least for Quinn. When Quinn started singing, Finn recognized the song. This was so Quinn; she loved 60s music, and he'd had to listen to '_I Only Want to Be With You_' by Dusty Springfield too many times. The change in voices was actually refreshing, though, so he sat back and enjoyed.

Until he noticed something…off. At first, Finn didn't believe his eyes. He thought he must've imagined it. Because there was no way, _no way_ Quinn was singing to his girlfriend. But then it happened again; Quinn's eyes focused on Rachel for a brief, intent moment during the chorus before she went back to prancing about with Brittany and Santana. A glance at the rest of glee club told him no one else noticed anything, but he knew Quinn.

She was devious. Devious enough to know that if she let her eyes linger too long, she'd be caught. And smart enough to know just how long she had to give the most flirtatious glimpse before she had to turn away.

Rachel slowly released his hand and swept her hair behind her ears, shifting in her seat. Finn frowned at her and looked back at Quinn, his anger growing with every enticing hip movement and every bat of her eyelashes.

Quinn was _flirting_ with _his girlfriend_. More than that, she was singing that she 'only wanted to be with'…well, he could only assume Rachel. Had he somehow stepped into some alternate reality? Was he dreaming? Like a really bad nightmare dream? How was this even possible? Quinn was as Christian as they made them, and she was flirting with (and possibly wanted to _be_ with) Rachel. Rachel Berry, the girl she tormented for years and joined glee to get Finn away from and told him if he was going to cheat…not with her. His eyes widened at the realization.

Finn couldn't believe it. And yet, there it was—and had been for some time—right in front of him. Quinn Fabray, rocking her hips and shaking her shoulders and performing with vocal perfection, for _his_ girlfriend, Rachel Berry, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second. She had shrunk down so far in her chair her rump was nearly falling off of it.

It took Finn a minute to realize that everyone was cheering and clapping for Quinn and she was standing there in her final pose, panting and looking at Rachel expectantly, as though she was asking with her eyes what Rachel thought.

"That was _excellent_, ladies!" Mr. Schue was saying, still clapping. Santana and Brittany exchanged grins. "Quinn, really, if I'd known you had such…such energy an-and passion! I mean…that was just so well done. _Fantastic_ job."

Quinn flashed a little grin. Finn glared at her.

"I'm thinking you need a solo next year, am I right, guys?" Mr. Schue asked the group.

They all clapped and Mercedes shouted her approval. "That is, if it's all right with Rachel," Kurt teased.

Even though he was clearly joking, everyone looked at Rachel, who hadn't moved since Quinn's song ended. Finn watched her with everyone else, hoping she was all right. He hoped she wasn't traumatized, and he thought to comfort her, but she seemed to realize everyone was staring at her at that moment and stood, glancing around at them.

"No, that was…that was…that was really, really good." She squeaked a little when she said it, then cleared her throat. "You deserve it, Quinn."

Quinn beamed like she'd just been given a cookie. Finn almost stood and confronted her right then and there, but Rachel didn't seem aware of what was going on, and he didn't want to alarm her.

"I…I have to use the restroom," Rachel blurted, and then she swept out of the room without even bothering to pick up her backpack.

Everyone started talking, as though nothing unusual had happened, but Finn saw the little grin Quinn was shooting after his girlfriend. He scowled.

XXXXXX

Quinn pulled the last taped photo from her locker and stuffed it in a folder with the many others she'd taken back down. She tore out a lot when she got pregnant, and most had been replaced by photos of her with various members of glee. Most were of her and Mercedes, but she'd also saved a special copy of the Sectionals trophy picture for in her locker. She liked remembering that day.

"Quinn!"

She sighed. She'd had a feeling this was coming. As daft as Finn was, he _had_ dated her for almost a year, and he had managed to pick up on some of her more subtle cues. After many, many arguments, but still. And even though she'd known this was a risk when she decided to do the song, she couldn't bring herself to care. It was high time Finn knew he wasn't the only one interested in Rachel.

"Hello, Finn," Quinn said pleasantly. "Cleaning out your locker, too?"

"What the hell was that in there?" Finn demanded as he stomped closer. His face was red—he'd been angry about this for a while, evidently. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice?"

"Notice what?" she asked innocently.

"You _flirting_ with my girlfriend!" he bellowed.

She was glad they were mostly alone in the building, save for the other glee members grabbing a few last-minute things from their lockers.

"Afraid of a little competition?" she said quietly, then turned back to her locker.

He scoffed. "From you? We both know Rachel wouldn't look twice at you after all you've done to her."

_That_ stung. Quinn shot him a sideways glare.

"Besides, she's not…that way."

"If you're so secure, why are you confronting me?" she inquired coolly.

"Because I don't like you flirting with her," Finn retorted sharply. He seemed to calm a little, looking confused as usual instead of all red. "I don't even get it."

"You don't have to."

He went on as though she hadn't said a word. "You're Christian. And you hate her. What were you trying to do? Seduce her just so you could break her heart?"

"Actually, just the first part," she said nonchalantly.

He made a strange noise, halfway between a gag and a giggle. She arched a brow at him.

"Are you…you're trying to tell me you actually _want_ Rachel?" he asked, as though he didn't believe it until just now.

Quinn piled the last of her books into her backpack. Finn made more weird noises she chose to ignore.

"No way. There's no way. And what makes you think singing a song about wanting to be with her is going to make any difference?" he rambled indignantly. "You're a _girl_. She'd never—"

She huffed and slammed her locker shut. She'd had enough.

"Wake up and smell the gay, Finn!" Quinn snapped, and Finn actually backed up a step. "Even if Rachel hasn't dated a girl before, considering the household she was raised in, she's probably not opposed to the idea."

He faltered and she sighed, turning to zip up her backpack.

"Well, that…that doesn't make a difference, either. She's with _me_, Quinn. And even if she weren't, why would she ever want you? You made her life a living hell," he reminded her fiercely.

She heaved the bag over her shoulder. "And we've made our amends." He looked taken aback. "Believe it or not, Finn, she actually has a life outside of you. Which includes me. Don't make the mistake of assuming I don't mean anything to her."

Once he recovered from the shock, Finn scowled deeply, setting his jaw determinedly. Quinn couldn't help thinking it was funny when he did this. She hoped for his sake that someday, whoever he ended up with would have reason not to laugh about it.

"You're going to have to try a lot harder than that to take her away from me, then," he warned.

She smiled—her sweetest, cruelest smile. "Oh, I don't think so."

"What makes you so sure?" Finn challenged.

"I could give you a million reasons, Finn, not the least of which is that she wants me back. But I'll leave you with this: I'm Quinn Fabray. I _always_ get what I want."

And then she flounced away.

XXXXXX

Rachel's body was humming. _Humming_. The only time she was ever buzzing with energy and electricity like this was before, during, and after performances. And usually after a half hour or so—or more, when it came to big ones like Sectionals—she would crash and burn in bed, exhausted from the adrenaline rush. And yet, right now, she was on a high of energy, even though she hadn't even sung in front of everyone.

Apparently, all it took was Quinn Fabray singing and dancing to rile Rachel up. Granted, Quinn had hit every note perfectly, not even going sharp once, and faultless technique always got Rachel a _little_ buzzed. That's how she'd ended up with Jesse, after all. And beyond that, Quinn had sung it with passion, like she meant every word, and every time she looked at Rachel, the brunette could see the truth in it. And Quinn's dancing was just…well, at one point Rachel swore the room shrank to just her and those long legs and swaying hips and gorgeous eyes and pink lips.

She didn't even notice Santana and Brittany providing backup, except perhaps to dimly register their voices behind Quinn's heartfelt serenade.

It was strange, really. Rachel had never gotten this excited when Quinn sang or danced before. Of course, she'd missed Quinn's funk number and the blonde hadn't done many other solos. Rachel was also usually so busy focusing on her own technique and choreography that she didn't notice Quinn—or anyone else, for that matter. Except if someone went sharp or flat or something.

It just seemed too easy. Finn had gotten her excited with his talent; Noah with his passion; Jesse with his perfection. But for each of them, it was only a little bit, even when they danced or sang to her—Finn with '_Jessie's Girl_' and Noah with '_Sweet Caroline_' and Jesse with '_Hello_.' Quinn wasn't even singing _to her_, and Rachel had gotten so excited she'd had to excuse herself.

The trip to the bathroom had at least given her a chance to splash water on her cheeks—and even though she'd turned up the heat a little, it felt like a blast of cold winter air—so they wouldn't be so red. But even after minutes of reciting the Pythagorean Theorem by heart, Rachel was still insanely excited. The only thing that seemed to dim it was when it occurred to her that Quinn was singing to _someone_, and she fought a surge of jealousy all through the rest of glee, surreptitiously watching for Quinn to pay more attention to one boy than another, or to Dazzle at them.

Even then, though, Rachel kept running through the song in her head—only with Quinn's voice instead of Dusty's—trying to remember every detail, every movement, and that didn't help dull the growing ache between her legs one bit.

Presently, she was hoping to get home with enough time left before her mockery of a date with Finn to take care of that little problem. It just wouldn't do for her to be squirming throughout the entire date, even if Finn thought it was for him. Especially if Finn thought it was for him.

After her chat with Shelby, Rachel had reaffirmed her decision to break things off with him, but she didn't think it would be fair to do it on the very day they had a date. While she was an avid fan of honesty, she also really didn't want to hurt Finn. So she would drop hints tonight, she'd decided, and then break it to him the next day or so.

Rachel heaved her backpack higher on her shoulder—it felt ten times heavier than usual—and she was just about to step onto the sidewalk for the trek home when she heard someone call out a friendly, "Hey there!"

Rachel halted immediately and that persistent ache turned into a throb when she found Quinn's Dazzler waiting to greet her from her old blue Jaguar. Rachel absently thought she must've gotten it back when she moved back in. She struggled with a smile, trying not to brighten too much.

"Oh, hi," she managed, mentally cursing when her cheeks felt even hotter.

And then Quinn said something Rachel never thought she'd hear the blonde say. _Ever_. Even in the dreams she'd been having about Quinn, this never happened. Of course, in some of the dreams, there was no talking at all, but that was beside the point.

"You need a ride?"

Rachel gaped for so long Quinn laughed, and for a minute, the brunette was afraid she was going to take it back and say she'd been kidding.

"Jeez, Berry, you'd think I just asked if you're into bondage," she teased, winking. Then she eyed her warily. "You're not, are you? Because, no offense, but I just don't see the argyle meshing well with handcuffs."

If Quinn didn't stop referring to sex in their conversations—intentionally or not—Rachel was going to spontaneously combust. And it was not going to be pretty. She couldn't even cross her legs, because she was still standing. So not fair. She settled for twisting her backpack strap in her fingers.

"I, um…I've never really considered bondage, to be perfectly honest with you," she stammered, and her blush intensified when Quinn's smile widened. "I-in any case, my house isn't that far, so you really don't have to—"

"I know I don't," she cut in sincerely. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to." When the brunette paused to consider that, Quinn smirked and jerked her head. "Just get in, Berry. It's the last day of school—do you _really_ want to walk all the way home?"

Rachel broke down, if only because she wanted Quinn to keep smiling at her like that. She hopped around to the other side and got in, placing her bag between her legs before she strapped in, shooting the blonde anxious smiles. As soon as she was secure, Quinn shifted the car into drive and eased out of the parking lot.

Rachel fidgeted with her sleeves in the silence, trying not to move because leather tended to be squeaky. And if she squeaked in Quinn's car, she was going to die of embarrassment. Really, she'd never thought of herself as an easily embarrassed person before she started liking Quinn. The brunette tried hard to think of something to say, but the only thing she could think was that the blonde's car smelled really nice. Not as nice as Quinn, but still nice.

That was definitely out of the question. Rachel chewed on her lip in thought.

"That…." Quinn's eyes snapped to her and she faltered. "That number was really good."

The Dazzler came back and Rachel nearly shrank in her seat again.

"I'm glad you liked it," she replied. And she sounded like she actually meant it. "I was really nervous about it."

"Really?" Rachel couldn't think of one good reason for Quinn Fabray to be nervous about anything. "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, I lack your years of training," she said, and it took the brunette a minute to realize she was being teased.

Rachel tossed her hair, playing along. "That _is_ true." When the blonde chuckled, she sobered. "But seriously…it was just…great. I mean, years of training can't teach you that kind of…." For once, she had to struggle for words, and she hated it.

"Passion?" Quinn offered, and her voice was lower than usual.

The brunette nodded dumbly. "Yes."

The blonde smiled at her when they had to stop at a red light, and when Rachel returned it, she shifted to take off her sweater-jacket, tossing it in the backseat. The moment Rachel realized that not only was that dress unbelievably stunning on her, but it was also strapless, she had to lean on her fist just to keep her mouth shut. It was suddenly stifling hot in the car.

"So how did things go with your mom?" Quinn asked abruptly. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"No, not at all." The blonde beamed at her, and Rachel continued, "It went…it's hard to describe, I guess. Sh-she told me she left Vocal Adrenaline because she was tired of coaching glee club, and when I asked her why McKinley, she said…she said she came for me. That she needed me. It felt…wonderful and scary all at the same time."

Quinn was silent for a moment before she asked softly, "Why scary?"

She sighed. She wasn't really sure why she was telling Quinn all this, but for some reason she felt…comfortable. Safe. It was nice.

"Because no one has ever needed me before."

The blonde looked absolutely stunned. Rachel suddenly found her fingernails very interesting.

"I-I don't know if it's because I've never needed anyone, or what. Although, that's not really true anyway. I've needed people before, but they just never seem to need me back. I guess that's why I'm always so self-reliant or bossy or…whatever you want to call it." She sighed, adding in a whisper, "Needing people only gets you hurt."

Rachel trained her gaze out the window, and that's when she realized they'd pulled into her driveway. It surprised her a little that Quinn knew where her house was, but not that much. This was a small town, after all.

It was probably time she thanked the blonde for the ride and got out of her car, but for some reason, she couldn't make herself move. Rachel didn't really know what she was hoping for, because—no matter what her mother said—Quinn was straight as a pole. The little voice that had somehow been instilled in her head since that day at Regionals chastised her. Like Shelby said, she should give it a chance. Even if it was only a teeny, tiny one.

Who was she really kidding, though? Even if Quinn decided to swing that way, it would never be—

Rachel nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt a warm hand encompass hers, and she looked down at her lap in alarm and pleasure in equal measures. The next thing her eyes went to was Quinn, and she was surprised to find one of the warmest, gentlest smiles she had ever seen on the other girl. It was so soft it was barely visible, but Rachel was close enough to see the small quirk of the corners of her mouth and the lightening of her eyes.

Her gaze traveled, and she really couldn't help it. Every curve of the blonde's skin led her to a new sight to behold, and she went from staring into beautiful hazel eyes to envying an ideal nose to mouth-watering at perfect pink lips to marveling at the slender column of a throat to ravishing pale, soft-skinned shoulders that curved down into a collarbone—which she desperately wanted to nibble—with her eyes.

"I'm sorry you've been hurt."

The brunette's eyes snapped back to Quinn's, which were as warm and inviting as they had been seconds ago. Only now, Rachel felt like the blonde was trying to convey something without words, like some sort of secret message she wanted the brunette to decode. After a moment of wondering at that, she decided she must be imagining it.

What Rachel was _not_ imagining—because this was just too fantastic to make up—was Quinn's thumb running over the back of her hand. And she didn't know whether it was that, or the soft smile the blonde was still offering her, or her strapless dress, or the quiet, earnestly spoken words, but whatever it was, before she knew it, Rachel was lurching forward and she kissed Quinn on the cheek.

Not for too long, mind you. In fact, it was so fast even Rachel was feeling a little whiplash, and she was blushing like crazy as soon as she did it. But she just hadn't been able to stop herself.

"Thank you for the ride," Rachel said hurriedly, avoiding the blonde's eyes like the plague.

She swung her backpack over her shoulder on the way out of the car and hurried up the front steps, but then she couldn't resist looking back. Quinn waved at her, and Rachel sped into the house, feeling more embarrassed than she had the time she let Kurt talk her into dressing up as Sandy for Finn.


	11. Burn, Baby, Burn

**Burn, Baby, Burn**

Rachel wrung her hands for the fiftieth time, diverting them away from her cell phone. It sat on her desk, right next to her laptop. Calling to her. Not in the literal sense, of course—she'd have picked up if someone was actually calling. No, it was tempting her.

She forcefully turned back to her computer screen and tried to focus on checking for the latest news from her friends on Facebook. Finn's status hadn't changed since Saturday morning, and it made her wince. It still said, '_Great date last night!_' Noah had commented, '_Get any?_' She rolled her eyes.

To be honest, Finn hadn't. Gotten any, that is. And when she said any, she meant _any_.

After Quinn left Friday afternoon, Rachel had spent an hour in the bathtub, and an hour after that waiting for her fingers to get unwrinkled. She tried to dress as casually as possible, and not just because they were only going bowling. Frankly, she hoped he might get the underlying message that this wasn't meant to be anything special. Of course, he didn't get it. When she opened the door, he raved about how great she looked. Since she purposely hadn't dressed up, she wondered if it was just wired into him to say that when he went on a date.

It was a pleasant enough date, although whenever Finn got a little more boyfriendly than friendly, Rachel would politely change the subject, or slip her hand away from his. He honestly didn't seem to notice that anything was going on. So she'd stepped it up a bit at the bowling alley: shortening their victory hugs and paying for her own meal while he was in the bathroom. Nothing seemed to work. He was as cheerful and dogged as ever, except for one moment around their third round.

Finn had shifted his drink from hand to hand, staring at his feet as he did so. And then, ultimately, he only asked what she thought of Quinn's number earlier that day. Rachel told him the truth—sparing him the part about how she'd desperately wanted to tackle Quinn to the ground and kiss her until she quivered. He seemed to accept her answer when she simply explained that it had been an excellent performance that would surely help them win Regionals next time around. Then he was happy as a clam again.

Truthfully, after that, Rachel relaxed quite a bit. Finn didn't do much except bowl with her and hug her when either of them got a strike—and talk to her like they always did. It was fun. Although, when _he_ asked about her mom, she found herself brushing him off, instead of baring her soul like she had with Quinn. And even though she'd promised herself she'd give kissing him a try, to see if the spark returned, as soon as he was about to, she dodged him.

She felt bad. She really did. But immediately upon seeing Finn leaning closer and thinking that he was about to kiss her, Quinn popped into her mind's eye. So Rachel had flinched, dodged, pecked him on the cheek, and darted inside.

Evidently, this had not dampened Finn's spirits. Rachel decided against making any comment or 'liking' his status. Instead she traveled to Tina's page, where she and Mercedes were apparently playing comment-tag. She sighed, letting her eyes drift to 'Mutual Friends.' Quinn Fabray was right there.

Rachel sighed, shaking her head. This was ridiculous. It had only been three days since she'd seen Quinn, and she'd be seeing her again on Friday. She didn't need to start harassing the poor blonde, who was probably traumatized from that experience in the car. Granted, it wasn't like Rachel had kissed her on the mouth. Like she'd wanted to. And Quinn had just waved. She didn't slam on the gas trying to get the hell out of there. Maybe she hadn't minded.

Rachel's gaze flicked to her phone again. Maybe she wouldn't mind if she called. It was only seven o'clock.

Before she could change her mind, Rachel lunged for the phone and flipped it open, quickly speeding down her list of contacts to Quinn. She hit the enter button and closed her eyes as she listened to the rings, trying to keep her knees from bouncing with minimal success. Quinn picked up on the third ring.

"Yeah?"

She sounded exceedingly irritated. Rachel winced.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—I'll just—"

"Rachel?" She sounded surprised.

But not nearly as surprised as Rachel felt. Had the cosmos just flipped upside down and backwards? Maybe if she looked out her window, she would see the sky had turned magenta and the houses were all covered in rabbit furs.

"You called me Rachel," she said breathlessly. It sounded gorgeous coming from Quinn's voice.

Quinn apparently didn't notice anything unusual about this. "Sorry, I didn't look at the phone before I picked it up. How are you?"

Rachel was further surprised to hear that Quinn's voice had both lowered from the surprise and warmed from the irritation. She sounded as pleasant and welcoming as she had that Friday afternoon.

"I'm…fine, but I-I can just call some other time or something, if you—"

Quinn chuckled in her ear, and it made Rachel shiver. "Why?"

"Well, you just sounded really aggravated before, and I didn't want to be a bother or—"

"Oh." Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just…my…father was just here. About the divorce papers."

"Oh," Rachel echoed.

"Yeah."

They were silent for almost a full minute. Rachel didn't know what to say to make it better—there was nothing that could, really. He'd kicked Quinn out of her house and cheated on her mother. Rachel really wanted to slap him, but that wouldn't help anything. She would just end up with a sore hand and an angry Christian man twice her size. Besides, after the divorce, there was nothing more he could do to hurt Quinn.

If he did, _then_ Rachel would slap him. Or maybe kick him in the crotch. It would probably be easier to reach, and it would be more painful, which he would deserve if he hurt Quinn.

Still, that didn't help her now. She remembered it helping to talk to Quinn on Friday. Even though she still felt kind of scared and miserable, Quinn had made her feel better by just being there and letting her talk. Maybe that would help Quinn. Although she probably wouldn't want to talk it out with Rachel, it was worth a shot. The brunette took a breath.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked tentatively.

And, to her everlasting surprise, Quinn did.

XXXXXX

This felt so good. Indescribably good, in fact. The only thing that would make it better was if Rachel was actually there, instead of blocks away in her own house. Quinn had to use her pillow to substitute while she sprawled out on the bed, spilling her heart out to Rachel Berry.

Seven months ago, she would've hung up as soon as she heard Rachel's voice. Of course, seven months ago, Rachel wouldn't have called her. Quinn found herself smiling at their progress. And remembering that kiss.

Sure, it hadn't been on the lips. And maybe the warm pressure of Rachel's lips on Quinn's cheek was over far too soon. And maybe Rachel hadn't given her even a millisecond to react in any way. But it happened. Her tingling cheek was proof of that for what felt like hours afterward. Even now, she was absently brushing her fingertips lightly over the area where the brunette's lips had been.

It turned out Rachel was an excellent listener, which Quinn hadn't really known before. It was a surprise, but that wore off once she remembered that Tina was usually the one talking when she saw the two together. And right now, Rachel was only making sounds of encouragement and reassurance that she was there, listening intently. Once, she made an indignant squeak at something Quinn's father had done, but she kept quiet after that.

Rachel would also occasionally make an observation that would remind Quinn of another thing she wanted to say, and then she would go off on another tangent while the brunette just listened. The blonde told her everything. Everything she could remember about her dad and her family, the environment she'd been raised in, how she never felt like she would ever live up to her father's standards, how horrified she'd been when she found out she was pregnant, how devastated she was when her father kicked her out, how it had made her feel unworthy and unlovable—everything.

Quinn only stopped when the baby cried. It was dinnertime, as usual. And that was when Quinn realized she'd been talking Rachel's ear off for almost two hours straight.

"Is that Beth?" Rachel asked.

Quinn nodded once before she remembered Rachel couldn't see her.

"Yeah. Dinnertime." She sighed. "Thanks…for putting up with my crap for so long."

"It's not crap," Rachel said automatically. She paused and Quinn smiled. "I'm really honored you feel comfortable enough to share all that with me." Her voice was so soft the blonde almost didn't hear.

"You're a good friend," she said honestly. And even though it was more than that, Rachel seemed pleased with the answer.

"Well, I should let you go so you can take care of Beth," she said.

"Yeah. Before you do that, I wanted to ask you if you wanted me to come over a little early on Friday. To help you set up and everything."

"Sure, that'd be fine." The excitement in her voice told Quinn it was more than fine. She grinned to herself.

"Okay. I'll see you Friday, Berry," she said roughly, half-teasing.

She chuckled. "Bye, Quinn."

Quinn didn't want to hang up, but she forced herself and hurried to tend to the baby.

XXXXXX

Rachel called Quinn again the next day. She'd just spent the day shopping with Shelby, and while it had been great, she also desperately wanted to talk to someone about it. Or, rather, to Quinn about it. She was afraid she would be overstepping her bounds, but when Quinn picked up this time, she greeted her cheerfully, though she didn't call her by her first name again. Rachel was starting to think that had been an accident.

They ended up talking for hours—about Shelby and about a possible couple to adopt Beth that Quinn had visited and about everything else, it felt like—right up until Beth's dinnertime.

Rachel spent the next day with Tina, Mercedes, and Kurt. To her surprise, they'd invited her out for a day of shopping, mini golf, and ice cream. And even if it wasn't the best time ever, she still had fun. By the end of the day she was pretty tired from all the sun exposure and arguing with Kurt. Then her cell phone rang, and Quinn was waiting impatiently on the other end.

They spent all evening talking, and Quinn called back when she was done feeding Beth this time. She even had Rachel talk to Beth on the phone, which was possibly one of the most…interesting experiences of Rachel's life. And they spent the entirety of Thursday chatting on and off, only hanging up when they absolutely had to—like when Quinn had to go see another of her list of couples, or Rachel had to do a few chores.

Rachel had had no idea she could have that much fun talking to someone. Of course, it was fun talking to Finn because he was funny and she liked explaining things, so that was enjoyable. And Tina was quiet and comforting; Kurt was good to chat with when it came to music. Noah understood her religious troubles—whenever she had any, which wasn't often—and he was so protective of her these days she couldn't help but occasionally seek comfort in his arms.

But with Quinn it was different. Quinn was witty and knowledgeable and soothing and safe all at once. Rachel never got sick of her rant on why the 60s were the best era—music-wise—of the United States. And she loved bantering with her, and discussing things with her, and even arguing had become sort of…fun. Rachel had expected Quinn to hang up the first time they argued on the phone, but she stayed on with her until it was resolved and they were back to chatting again. It all made Rachel fall harder.

Rachel had even learned to stop blushing and stuttering so much. For the most part. She was so comfortable with Quinn when she forgot to be embarrassed by her crush, but once in a while she would be reminded that the blonde didn't know how she felt, and she would get awkward all over again. Quinn always made her laugh when that happened, trying to draw her back out, and it usually worked like a charm.

Friday morning, Rachel texted Quinn—just to say hello—after seeing her dads off for their conference. When she received no reply, she assumed the blonde was still asleep and decided to swing by the convenience store to pick up a few last-minute things. Like napkins, which she'd discovered they were completely out of. It really wasn't like Daddy to let them get that low, but traveling stressed him out, so she supposed that was probably why.

The convenience store wasn't that far, so Rachel just threw on a fresh t-shirt and headed out in her sleep shorts. No one would really notice they were sleep shorts, she reasoned, since they weren't a pair with stars or rainbows on them or anything like that. She waved to Frank, the cashier, and whistled as she went down the aisles with a shopping basket.

Rachel had it stacked high with napkins, bags of chips, and a roll of party decorations when it happened. She was just going back to snatch a couple of two-liters when she happened to glance over and found Quinn, grabbing a bottle of water and listening to her iPod.

Seeing her at all was a shock in itself—it had been a week, and even though just Quinn's voice was enough to get Rachel a bit warm, seeing her again felt like being thrown in a barbeque pit. Although, what she was wearing may have played a small part in that. It was quite obvious that Quinn had been out for a morning run, because she was wearing matching black shorts and a sports bra.

And now there was all kinds of pale flesh on display for Rachel's viewing pleasure. And view, she did. It wasn't that she _wanted_ to gape at Quinn in the middle of a convenience store with the freezer section's door hanging open. It was more like she couldn't help it. Quinn's body was a freaking magnet and Rachel's eyes were made of metal.

The brunette had already seen a lot of those legs before, but she didn't skip them. Her mouth was watering by the time she reached the curve of Quinn's rump, leading up to a lithe stomach, where sweat trickled down over abs that were clearly starting to return to their pre-baby glory. And she abruptly realized that she really, really, _really_ wanted to lick Quinn's abs. By the time she got to the swell of Quinn's breasts, she was so hot she was seriously considering leaping into the freezer.

"Hey there!" Quinn said suddenly, and Rachel wished a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her.

She didn't say anything, because she was certain if she did the only thing that would come out would be: 'Flargkhsn.' Which wouldn't make any sense, and then Quinn would think she was a freak again. If she didn't already. Rachel forced herself to nod.

"I didn't see you there," Quinn continued, walking closer as she tugged the ear buds out.

Oh, that wasn't good. Rachel struggled. What should she _do_?

"How are you?" Quinn was starting to sound a little uncertain.

She had to say something. She slammed the freezer door shut without grabbing the two-liters and took a breath. _Oh, God. I can't remember how to talk!_

Rachel opened her mouth, trying not to stare at Quinn's breasts like some kind of horny teenage boy. Although she certainly felt like one at the moment. Which was okay, because girls wanted sex as much as boys. Or at least she did now.

"Um…." A syllable! Now to turn it into an actual word. "Um fine. How're you?"

Quinn's brow furrowed. "I'm…fine. You don't seem fine, though. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yes. I'm just tired." Wow. She'd actually sounded like a human being.

"I'd be tired, too, if I woke up at six every morning," Quinn teased, smiling.

_Oh, dear God._ Rachel had looked at her breasts. Right in front of her. This was not good. She was aching to look again, but she had to maintain eye contact. _Actually, that might not be a good idea either, since pupils dilate when…my eyes must be pure black._

"Yeah. I-I should…go, cause I'm not dressed and—I mean! I am dressed, obviously, but not—I have to go."

Quinn arched a brow. "Berry, I thought we'd gotten past the stuttering stage. Come on, you know I'm not gonna bite. Or at least not hard." She winked.

_It's so, so bad._

"I have to go."

Quinn looked a little hurt, but Rachel couldn't stop to think about it.

"So I'll see you later then?" the blonde called hopefully.

The brunette turned and backed down the aisle. "Right. Of course. Later."

She promptly knocked over a stack of plates. Rachel scurried to pick them up, shooting nervous glances at Quinn, who was now grinning like she'd just won something. The brunette scrambled to go pay and run for a cold shower back home.

XXXXXX

Quinn had thought, for a moment, that Rachel was taking fifty steps backward on her. Like she'd just realized that Quinn wasn't worth talking to, or she'd lost her memory and thought the blonde was going to slushie her right there in the convenience store. It didn't occur to her until Rachel backed into the plates that she was acting the way she had in the hospital after asking Quinn to help her with the party. Only about ten times worse.

Which stood to reason, since Quinn wasn't really wearing much, whereas in the hospital she'd been completely covered up. So, Rachel wasn't stepping backward. She was just…stagnating. Quinn intended on fixing this, and soon.

Today, she would have to worry about Finn's obnoxious presence, she reminded herself as she stepped up to the Berrys's door. He would likely be glaring at her any time she came near Rachel, and the brunette would of course be staying by him throughout the party. Mostly out of guilt, but still. This was part of why Quinn had arranged to come early to help Rachel set things up, to buy herself some alone time.

Granted, it was only a half an hour, but still. Quinn knocked again, a little anxiously. She hoped Rachel hadn't seen her through the window and run for it. That would put a definite dent in her alone time plans.

Quinn tried the doorbell, and when there was no answer again, she twisted the doorknob—just for the hell of it—and it gave to her questing hand. She suppressed her surprise and peeked in, peering around a cream-colored living room with interest. There were snack bowls set out on the coffee table and a few streamers. Really, it looked like Rachel had done the decorating without her.

Heaving a sigh, Quinn slipped inside, shutting the door carefully behind her. Rachel was also nowhere in sight. She called her name a couple times, but there was no answer. Maybe she ran back to the convenience store for something. The blonde spied the oak banister of a flight of stairs. Or maybe she was upstairs.

Quinn tried hard—she really did—to keep herself from going up there. After all, if Rachel wasn't really up there, she would get home or come up and find Quinn and she'd have ruined everything by snooping. Even though she wasn't really snooping, that's certainly what it would look like.

But she couldn't contain herself. The blonde charged up the stairs in one burst of energy, before she could change her mind, and then looked around at all the family portraits along the hallway as she tried to decide which door would be Rachel's. It wasn't hard. As soon as she saw the gold star, it was fairly obvious.

The door was open, so Quinn peeked in. A peek wouldn't hurt anything. It was just to see if she was there. She wasn't, from the looks of it. It wasn't as pink or brightly colored as Quinn imagined it would be. Not that it wasn't bright, but it was…well, tamer. Her bed was neatly made and there were pictures and trophies and ribbons everywhere along her shelves and dresser. She noted with a smile that the Sectionals trophy picture held a place of honor on Rachel's nightstand, along with a picture of her and her dads.

There was also a small stack of clothes on the end of Rachel's bed, and what looked to be the bathroom door was shut. Quinn shuddered against the doorframe and tried to get her wayward imagination under control before she ventured any further. Once she felt her mind was safely out of the gutter, she padded into the room to the closed door and forced herself not to eavesdrop. She didn't hear a shower from her non-eavesdropping spot—so chances were Rachel wasn't showering. Damn it.

Quinn knocked twice. "Rachel?"

It only seemed appropriate to call her by her name in her house. Besides, it was time they moved on from 'Berry.' No more stagnating. There was a thud beyond the door and Quinn grew concerned.

Then Rachel squeaked, "Quinn?"

She sighed. "I'm afraid so. Your front door was unlocked and—"

"Don't come in!" she yelped.

"Okay?" Quinn frowned. She waited as long as her limited patience allowed her. "Why not?"

"Because—oh, shit!"

The blonde's eyebrows rose in alarm. She'd never heard her swear before. "Rachel! Are you okay?"

There was silence on the other side. Well, not complete silence. She could still hear the brunette repeating the swear word like a mantra, as well as the occasional drawer slamming. Quinn hated not knowing what was going on. What if she was hurt? What if—

Before she could drive herself nuts with that, Quinn announced, "Okay, I'm coming in."

"No! I—"

Rachel's face immediately fell when the blonde came in, to the point where she looked like she might cry. Quinn resisted the urge to tug her into her arms. Her heart wrenched with sympathy for her poor Rachel.

The brunette was brandishing a curling iron in one hand, and in the other was a small tuft of brown hair. And she was only in a towel, but Quinn forced herself to push that aside to focus on later.

"What happened?" she cooed instead, stepping closer.

The brunette really almost did cry when she explained, "I was trying to curl my hair and I got distracted because the soap fell in the sink and I tried to get it and then it burned off some of my hair and now it's uneven and singed and ruined and I can't find the scissors or tape or anything that would work and—"

"Okay, Rachel, deep breaths," the blonde coached, taking her gently by the shoulders. "Look at me. _Breathe_." Quinn locked eyes with her and breathed slowly, watching Rachel follow her lead. "There you go. Deep breaths; sit." She eased her back onto the toilet seat, stroking her hair soothingly. "Everything's going to be fine."

"How is everything going to be fine?" Rachel moaned, holding up the chunk of hair. "My hair is _gone_!"

Quinn eased the tendrils out of Rachel's death grip and tossed them in the trash, much to the brunette's dismay. But before she could protest, Quinn started explaining as she went to work unplugging the curling iron and setting it aside.

"My mom owned a beauty parlor until I was thirteen; I've watched her a million times," the blonde soothed, digging through drawers for scissors. She paused to finger Rachel's singed hair. "You didn't burn off that much. We just need to even it out, and it'll be fine."

Rachel still looked miserable, but the blonde was on a mission. Finally, she found the scissors hiding in the back of one of the top drawers. She eyed them and ran her finger along the edge to see if they would be sharp enough and surmised that they would be, but only if the hair was wet. Quinn sighed and set the scissors down, moving to sit on the edge of the tub instead. She beckoned Rachel, who stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Your hair needs to be wet," she explained, and the brunette frowned, but moved to sit next to her.

Quinn turned on the water, testing it with her fingers to get the perfect temperature, and gestured for Rachel to come closer when it was ready. The brunette kept eyeing her as she bent down, and Quinn was pleased to see that her breathing had quickened. She shoved that observation aside—now was not the time—and instead focused on sliding the soft, silky locks into place and soaking them. Even though she really wanted to kiss Rachel's bare shoulders.

Once the brunette locks were wet enough to satisfy Quinn, she tugged the brunette back onto the toilet seat after turning the water off and started brushing through her hair with the comb she'd spied on the counter. She tried to remember everything her mother had told her about creating the gentlest touch possible, while she ran her fingers through the curls and combed the few snarls away.

When she was pleased with her work, the blonde snatched the scissors and started trimming at the singed part first. It really wasn't that much—a quarter inch, at most. Quinn kicked the bathroom rug away so it wouldn't get hair on it, moving Rachel this way and that as she evened out the locks. The blonde was so focused on perfecting her work she nearly ruined it when she heard the brunette give a gusty sigh. One glance at the mirror told her that she'd been gentle enough—Rachel looked ready to fall asleep.

"You're really good at this," she mumbled softly.

Quinn smiled. "Let's hope so."

Even that little tease didn't seem to wake her up. She just smiled a little and waited for Quinn to finish. Once she did, the blonde went about unnecessarily running her fingers through the long locks and pretending to be making sure it was all straight. Rachel's hair had always been a little fetish of hers, and since she'd been able to touch it in the hospital, she couldn't resist it. She even eased down on her knees in front of her and settled the hair to frame around Rachel's face to her liking. Then she smiled.

"There. See? All better," she said, winking.

Rachel swallowed, gaze darting down. "Thank you."

Quinn was suddenly very aware that she hadn't removed her hands from Rachel's hair. She was playing with it, gently twisting the ends of it in her fingers. Normally, she would've backed right off and put her Head Bitch In Charge attitude back in place. But, she firmly reminded herself, no more stagnating. It was time to move, already.

So, instead of moving away, Quinn just smiled at Rachel, who offered a small one back. The blonde unleashed the thoughts she'd been shoving aside, and she was flooded with all kinds of thoughts and feelings. Like how Rachel's bare knees were pressed against her, and how Quinn could easily slide her hand up Rachel's thigh and scoot up the towel if she wanted to. And how if Rachel's arms moved at all, the towel could drop. And how Rachel's legs had to have been a gift from God. And how adorably sexy Rachel looked naked with a towel on.

Quinn didn't try to combat the heat that was rapidly setting her skin on fire, nor the ache that was starting low in her belly. Instead, she sat up until all her weight was on her knees, bringing herself that much closer to the brunette, who quivered a bit when Quinn's hand brushed her bare thigh on the way to bracing herself on the lid.

It wasn't exactly the most romantic moment—it was just a bathroom, after all, and Rachel's knees were now pressing hard into her stomach—but, for Quinn, it couldn't have been more perfect. She focused her eyes on Rachel's, which had darkened considerably, and offered a mischievous smile when she felt the brunette's quick breaths wash over her cheeks. If she leaned any closer, their noses could touch. The blonde didn't hesitate, and Rachel closed her eyes and swallowed in anticipation.

Quinn grinned with delight. She was standing just outside the gates of heaven, and all she had to do was press forward. It was exhilarating. She nudged Rachel's nose with hers teasingly, eliciting a small gasp from the brunette, and then she leaned to—

"Rachel, you home?"

"Wow, the place looks awesome!"

"_Damnit_," Quinn hissed, retracting. "I'm gonna _kill_ them."

Rachel looked startled, as though she wasn't quite processing what just happened. The blonde frowned sympathetically and heaved herself to her feet. When the brunette's eyes only grew wider with panic, Quinn stroked a reassuring hand over her wavy tendrils, trying to calm her.

"I'll buy you some time," she said gently, and forced herself to walk out.

She really was going to kill those idiots.


	12. Pool Party

**A/N:** Ugh. I'm exhausted. This chapter was the devil…. :P

**Pool Party**

_What…the hell…just happened?_

Rachel hadn't moved since Quinn left. Mostly because she was afraid that if she did, she would wake up and find it had all been yet another tease of a dream. But this time, she didn't think it was. Because she could still feel the heat from Quinn's breath on her cheeks, and the leftover tingle of Quinn's nose ghosting along hers, and, most of all, she could still see Quinn's hazel eyes, dark and full of want.

The only thing Rachel could conclude from this evidence was that Quinn Fabray had been about to kiss her. But the thought was just so utterly fantastic she couldn't believe it. After all, this was ex-president of the celibacy club, ex-captain of the Cheerios, had Noah's baby, sometimes sharp, Quinn Fabray. And she just didn't do things like kiss girls in their bathroom, especially not girls named Rachel Berry.

There was no other way to explain it, though. Quinn had _not_ been kidding around; there was no denying that. And she'd actually sounded angry at the interruption—and not just 'ugh' angry. Full-blown, 'stop-trying-to-steal-my-boyfriend-Treasure-Trail' angry.

In fact, Rachel should probably worry about her guests, if the murderous glint in Quinn's eye had been any indication. She sighed, bracing herself, and stood. Nothing happened. She was still in her bathroom, naked with a towel on, the clippings from her hair still scattered on the floor. And that's when it actually hit her—Quinn Fabray really, truly, indisputably had been about to kiss her.

Before she could stop it, Rachel felt a bubbling of happiness right through her center, and soon she was grinning like she'd just been cast in a Broadway play. She slung her towel over the end of the bed, slipping on her bathing suit under her favorite argyle sweater and a denim skirt, before she swept up the hair clippings and combed out her hair one more time. She made sure to place it the way Quinn had just before she'd almost kissed her.

Then, with her famous Rachel Berry grin, she braced herself again and bounced down the stairs.

XXXXXX

When Quinn came downstairs, Mercedes knew immediately it was time to get the hell out of the blonde's way. Puck was already on the couch, eating down the bowl of pretzels, and Finn was in the kitchen looking for the steaks Rachel had asked him to barbeque; but she could still save everyone else from the raging ball of fury. She nudged Kurt, who passed the message on after she gave him a meaningful glance.

"Hey, girl," Mercedes called, keeping huddled to the far side of the room where they were all taking off their shoes.

Quinn tossed her a curt nod and then her eyes narrowed on Puck. Oh, shit. This was going to be funny as hell.

"Hey, Piggerman," the blonde snarled, snatching the bowl of pretzels out of his lap. "Stop eating all the food."

"Hey!" Puck scowled at her, trying to grab the bowl back. She held it just out of reach. "You can have chips; the pretzels are mine!"

"Well, maybe I like pretzels," she retorted, chewing on one just to prove her point.

"What the hell's up with you?" he asked, shaking his head. "You haven't been this bitchy since your third trimester hit. You PMSing again or something?"

Santana laughed so loud Mercedes was afraid she would attract Quinn's attention, but the blonde had already latched onto her target. They all ventured further into the living room, cautiously seating themselves just out of the range of warfare while they watched. Kurt shot Mercedes a grin when Quinn fumed.

"I seem to recall that _you_ were the one who climbed on top of _me_; so it's your own damn fault if I'm a bitch, now shut up and deal with it!" she snapped.

"What's the matter with you?" Puck demanded defensively.

Quinn growled, tossing down the pretzel bowl with force. "_You_. Seriously, the _one day_ you decide to actually be on time for something, and it _has_ to be today!"

"Actually, we're all about five minutes late," Kurt pointed out helpfully.

The blonde rounded on him, but before she could tear Mercedes's best friend to shreds, Finn appeared in the doorway, brandishing a frozen steak.

"What's going on out here?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Then his eyes found Quinn, and Mercedes was surprised to see his expression harden. Over the past few months, Finn had gone from that cold, hard look he was wearing now to looking at the blonde with indifference. As though he just didn't care all that much anymore. But now it appeared to be back, with a vengeance, and Quinn apparently felt it, too. She folded her arms and faced him, and Mercedes couldn't see her face, but she knew that stance—the Head Bitch was back.

She exchanged a glance with Kurt, who was frowning. He'd noticed it, too.

"Quinn," Finn said curtly. "Have you seen my girlfriend?"

Quinn stiffened and said, in what Mercedes knew was her snottiest tone, "_Rachel_ is upstairs."

Finn glowered, and the rest of them exchanged stunned glances. None of them had ever heard Quinn refer to Rachel by her first name before, at least not without throwing in a derogatory comment. The only unsurprised faces in the group were Puck, Santana, and Brittany's. Mercedes didn't have time to wonder about that, because Rachel came bounding down the stairs at that moment, wearing that obnoxiously happy smile that usually meant she had an idea.

Kurt groaned a little beside her.

"Hey!" Rachel said cheerfully.

Both Finn and Quinn snapped out of their death glare match to look at the brunette, and both brightened immediately, albeit one more than the other. Mercedes couldn't believe her eyes. Had Quinn Fabray really just gotten happy to see Rachel Berry?

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you all, but, as Quinn could tell you, I was having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction," she explained hurriedly.

"It looks like you still are," Santana commented.

"Hey, babe," Finn said happily, going to put his arm around her shoulder.

And then Mercedes saw two things she never thought she'd see. First, Quinn tensed up like a coiled spring. And then, Rachel _saw_ Finn's intent, and actually moved _on purpose_.

"Well, let's not just sit idly!" Rachel said, bouncing further into the room. Finn looked startled, but she ignored him. "There's food for everyone, and Daddy had the pool cleaned special—you can use the bathroom to change, if you want, it's just down the hall and to the left—and there is a CD player out there—I know you probably brought _something_, Kurt—and Finn, if you follow me, I'll show you how to set up the grill." She grinned.

Quinn seemed perfectly happy with everything up to that point. Mercedes watched in confusion as the blonde and brunette exchanged a brief look, and then Quinn tensed up all over again when Finn followed Rachel to the back, asking where her barbeque fork was.

Matt and Mike ran off to steal the bathroom, and they distantly heard them arguing over who got to change first.

Kurt nudged Mercedes. "Scale of one to ten, how weird are those three acting?"

"Try fifteen," she replied, shaking her head.

Tina leaned over then. "Are you guys getting a super weird vibe off of Quinn?"

Mercedes nodded rapidly. "We were just saying that."

"Oh, look, the drama continues," Kurt said interestedly, shushing them when Quinn plopped down next to Puck, pouting.

Puck rubbed her shoulder and Quinn shot a frown at him until he said something. Then she heaved a sigh, flipped to face him, and whispered in his ear, gesturing emphatically. The three waited with bated breath and then Puck burst into gut-busting laughter. Quinn glowered at him.

"Oh, my God! You totally got cock—"

Quinn smacked her hand over his mouth and snapped, "I will kill you, Puckerman! I mean it; I will _actually_ kill you dead!"

Brittany had already perked up. "Quinn had sex? When?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I didn't have sex."

The other blonde frowned in confusion and asked Santana, "Then why did he say cock?"

Santana shrugged.

"Because he's a pervert who needs to keep his mouth shut," Quinn hissed, glowering at Puck. "Are you going to shut up?"

He nodded, but his eyes were still shining with mirth. She reluctantly released him and he chuckled, grinning.

"I can't believe I was actually looking for sympathy from you," Quinn grumbled.

"Yeah, he is kind of a bad choice," Artie said, nodding.

"Look, I'm sorry," Puck said, but he was still grinning. "But it's just too damn funny."

"It's _not_ funny! I don't think you're getting the picture here, Puck! I was _this_ close," she moaned, staring at her fingers forlornly before letting her head drop back to rest on the couch.

Puck patted her shoulder.

"This close to what?" Kurt asked, exchanging a glance with Mercedes.

Quinn's head popped up and she bit her lip.

"Done!" Matt and Mike yelled as they raced back into the living room, throwing their clothes down by their shoes.

Everyone stared at them, unmoved.

"Aw, come on, guys! Pool party, let's go!" Matt shouted, bouncing on his heels.

"The pool is in the backyard," Santana pointed out.

"We need some babes to look at," Mike whined.

"Then look at each other," the Latina said. "You two are baby enough for all of us."

"Was anyone else expecting a joke about Quinn and Beth?" Artie asked quietly.

Santana frowned. "You're right. And I missed this? I must be going soft…."

"Or you're smart enough to know that even you can't be making cracks when Quinn is in this kind of mood," Mercedes said.

"I like that one better," the Latina agreed. "Although I could still take her down."

"I am sitting right here," Quinn said irritably.

"And? You know it's true. You're still too tubby to take me right now."

"You know what, San—"

"Okay, this really isn't going to be much of a pool party if no one ever gets in the pool," Rachel interrupted, hands on her hips.

"We were just enjoying the ambience of your living room," Kurt said, smirking. "It's much nicer than that Barbie Dream House room you have upstairs."

The brunette rolled her eyes.

"Hummel, has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?" Quinn snipped.

Rachel beamed in surprise, and Kurt was too flabbergasted to respond. Mercedes frowned at Quinn, but the blonde just rolled her eyes and pushed herself to her feet.

"Fine, I'll change first. But if I don't see your asses out there in five, I'm coming back in," she barked, "and you won't like it."

The head cheerleader in her was peeking out, and no one dared question it. Rachel was looking at Quinn with something akin to hero worship, sort of like that time she had a crush on Mr. Schue. But not really. Still, Mercedes's red flag went up, and she made a mental note to warn Quinn about this later.

Only then, Quinn turned to the brunette and brightened again, just like she did when Rachel came down the stairs. What the hell was going on?

"You bring a bikini, babe?" Puck asked, breaking Quinn and Rachel out of their staring fest.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Yes, it is a bikini, and before you ask, I give you permission to look, but no touching."

He grinned. "That's all I need, babe."

The blonde sighed and turned to go past Rachel, but before she did, she gave the brunette a huge grin that had Mercedes and Kurt exchanging glances again. This was definitely going to be a topic of discussion later.

XXXXXX

Mercedes and Kurt didn't get a chance to discuss and swap their observations for some time. After Quinn went to change, Rachel ushered Matt and Mike out to the pool and went about the business of being hostess. It turned out she was pretty good at it, which was a surprise. Frankly, Mercedes was expecting her to have 'organized fun' and herd them around to activities like a sheepdog. Instead, she let them do as they pleased, once they were all changed.

Santana and Brittany had opted to change last, and they were still in the bathroom. Mercedes could guess what they were doing. In the meantime, Artie was helping Finn at the grill, while Tina, Puck, Matt, and Mike were having a splash war in the pool. Puck was valiantly taking most of the waves for Tina, and his mock martyrdom made them all laugh. Mercedes and Kurt were desperate for a moment to chat, but Quinn hadn't left since they sat at the picnic table with her.

Really, it was Rachel they'd been worried about. She was always around, talking everyone within a twenty foot radius's ear off. But not today. Today she was refilling chip bowls and drinks—whether they were empty or not, but Kurt and Mercedes would never protest to being waited on hand-and-foot—and no matter who tried to convince her, she wouldn't sit and just relax. Not even when Kurt tried to pull her into singing one of the songs blasting from the CD player.

Mercedes was starting to suspect that all this darting about Rachel was doing had something to do with Quinn, because every time she looked at her, she blushed and hurried off again. And the blonde certainly wasn't oblivious. Every time Rachel came out of the house, the hazel eyes tracked her every movement, and Quinn would grin again whenever the brunette met her gaze. By now, Mercedes could only classify the looks they were giving one another as one thing: eyesex.

And it was freaking disturbing. Not Rachel's part of it, of course. Really, this was classic Rachel behavior.

Obviously, Quinn had shown her the teeniest bit of courtesy and niceness when she agreed to help Rachel plan the party—probably after hours of being lectured and begged and persuaded. And it was that courtesy and niceness that was so dangerous. Rachel was like a pit bull, and any niceness shown to her was rewarded with her clinging to your pant leg and refusing to let go. So it wasn't really that surprising. But Quinn?

First of all, Mercedes wasn't aware Quinn was open to swinging that way. Second, Quinn hated Rachel like no other. And it was these two thoughts that led Mercedes to the conclusion that Quinn was leading Rachel on, and that sort of pissed her off. Of course, she would wait to confirm with Kurt, but if he came to the same conclusion, it was going to be time for an intervention. Because, as annoying and bossy and abrasive as that little munchkin was, glee club would not stand by and watch her get hurt again, even by one of their own members.

"You're really starting to shape back up, Quinn," Kurt said presently, bending to eye the blonde's stomach. "Protein shakes?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "No. I'm doing this the normal way, thank you."

"Well, I'm really glad you're not pregnant anymore," Mercedes said, and they both stared at her. "But only because if I had to watch you eat a peanut butter and pickle sandwich with French fries on it again, I was going to throw up." She grinned with Kurt.

Quinn wrinkled her nose. "If there's one reason I'm never getting pregnant again, it's that. Disgusting cravings."

"Anybody need more lemonade?" Rachel asked, appearing at Kurt's shoulder. "Oh, we're almost out of Ruffles. I'll run and—"

"Rachel, you're exhausting everyone," Kurt told her sagely. She looked hurt, and he added, "Sit down and relax. That's what this party's for, right?"

"And hey, even I got in a bathing suit for this," Mercedes said, gesturing to herself. "Suit up, hot mama."

Rachel glanced at Quinn, who was smirking at her, and blushed. "Well, I'm not the only one not in my bathing suit. Finn isn't, and Artie isn't for obvious reasons. Oh, and do you see Santana and Brittany in their bathing suits?"

"I don't think they're wearing much of anything at the moment," Quinn commented.

The brunette went crimson, and Kurt surveyed Quinn, saying cheekily, "Neither are you."

While Quinn had calmed down considerably since they'd been in the house, evidently she still wasn't in the mood for jokes. She narrowed her eyes at Kurt and calmly upended what was left of her lemonade on his head. She grinned at him when he screeched, and then offered her empty glass to Rachel, who was biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Aw, look at that. I'm all out," Quinn said sweetly.

"You…are so going to pay," Kurt panted, swiping his hair back so it would stop dripping on his nose.

"Rachel, would you be a dear and get me some more? And while you're at it, change into your bathing suit. You're making everyone feel underdressed," the blonde said persuasively, still smirking at the brunette. "Besides, I'm dying to win my bet that your bathing suits are argyle, too." She winked.

Rachel smiled widely and nodded, backing away with Quinn's cup in hand. Mercedes frowned at Quinn, but she was oblivious. She snatched Kurt's cup and started sipping.

"And how am I going to pay, Hummel?" she asked interestedly.

"You'll have to wait and see. I intend on biding my time until the perfect moment," he warned, folding his arms as he shook his head disapprovingly at her.

"They emerge!" Puck suddenly shouted, and Santana and Brittany came strutting through the sliding door.

"Hey, come join us, we've got a war going on here!" Matt yelped when Puck washed another wave at him.

Santana rolled her eyes, curled her pinky around Brittany's, and led the other girl to the lounge chairs, where they proceeded to sunbathe.

"I wish they would just admit they're dating," Kurt mumbled.

"You just don't want to be the only openly gay kid at McKinley anymore," Mercedes teased.

"No. I mean, yes, of course, but I also care about Brittany," he protested. "And she loves Santana. And I'm not saying they should go exclusive or anything, because both of them have such high sex drives that that rule would be broken within a week, but they should at least acknowledge that—"

And Quinn promptly spewed the lemonade she'd just been drinking all over him. There was a chorus of laughter while Kurt fumed.

"Okay, that's it! I'm never, ever sitting across from you _ever_ again!" he ranted.

Quinn wasn't listening. In fact, her eyes weren't even on him anymore, and the only way Mercedes could describe the look on her face was hungry. Mercedes turned to look and her fear was confirmed.

Rachel had come out, in her bathing suit as Quinn had requested, only it wasn't argyle—just plain black with turquoise trimming. It wasn't a two-piece either, but it still clung to her form the way bathing suits usually did, leaving nothing to the imagination. And Mercedes was surprised to realize that underneath all her librarian-slash-Polly Pocket clothing, there was a really nice body.

Not that Rachel was as thin as some of the Cheerios or anything—she had curves on her, but they were actually kind of nice. If Mercedes were a lesbian, or a guy, she could see the appeal. As it was, she just shot another frown at Quinn, who wasn't looking away for anything.

Rachel blushed as she set Quinn's drink down in front of her, shifting awkwardly and folding her arms across her chest.

"Sorry I lost you your bet," she said shyly.

Quinn kept staring. "That's okay," she said—and it sounded like she really, really meant it.

While Kurt grabbed about fifty napkins from the stack to wipe off with and Mercedes glanced between Quinn and Rachel uncomfortably, Artie wheeled over with a plate of steaming steaks, Finn in tow.

"Who's hungry?" Artie called.

"Rachel," Finn said, sounding stunned. "You look…you look awesome."

That managed to snap Quinn and Rachel out of it.

"Thanks, Finn," Rachel said uncomfortably, sliding her hair behind her ear.

And Quinn? Well, if looks could kill…. Mercedes felt the urge to tell Finn to duck and cover.

XXXXXX

After they managed to drag Matt and Mike out of the pool for lunch, the twelve of them sat at the picnic table, munching on the steaks Finn had grilled and the corn and mashed potatoes Rachel had been checking on all this time. She, of course, had her very own vegan plate filled with fried vegetables, but the rest of them ate like normal people.

Mercedes's concern grew when Finn sat to Rachel's right, and Quinn plopped to her left, and the two exchanged glowers. While Rachel looked just plain uncomfortable. She loosened up when they all started chatting, and most of the rest of the afternoon was pleasant. Other than a few spats over what they should do next, and the constant glaring between Quinn and Finn, it was fun.

After they finished eating, Rachel took care of the dishes, with Tina's help. Both Finn and Quinn had looked about to help her, but fortunately, good old Tina had intervened before World War III could break out. The rest of them rocked to Kurt's CD and sang along. Santana and Brittany went back to sunbathing while the rest of them, including Tina and Rachel, joined in a giant game of Marco Polo and then water volleyball. Artie was the referee for both.

It wasn't until after the third round of volleyball that Mercedes and Kurt decided to go in for a 'bathroom break.' Which meant Kurt had gotten just as impatient as Mercedes and they needed to share—now.

"Okay, I don't know what Finn did, but five bucks says Quinn lays the smack down on him by the end of the party," Mercedes said, leaning against the counter.

"Really? Because it doesn't appear to be just Finn to me," Kurt replied, dabbing his face dry with a wash cloth.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when their team won the second round, Puck picked Rachel up and Quinn looked like she was going to turn him to stone like the witch from Narnia," he said matter-of-factly. "There's no denying it; Quinn has a thing for Rachel."

"I'm not sure she does," Mercedes protested, frowning. "I mean, this _is_ Quinn here. She hates Rachel, and she's practically Mother Mary. Except without the immaculate part."

"What are you saying?" he prompted.

"I'm saying, maybe Quinn was getting a little irritated with Rachel and decided that a slushie facial just wouldn't be good enough this time around," she said pointedly.

"Or, considering how mad you noticed she is at Finn, this is some sort of power struggle between them," he said, clearly enticed by the prospect. "And Rachel is just a pawn." He gasped, thrilled with the drama.

She nodded emphatically. "Exactly. And either way, we can't let it go on. Neither of us wants to see Rachel hurt again, right?"

He nodded back. "Right. Even if her outfit today _did_ look like something out of the Snoopy comics."

Mercedes grinned.

XXXXXX

No one wanted to leave, even after the mosquitoes came out. They were having way too much fun now, and even though it had only been about a week, they'd missed each other. So, when they were getting too eaten up to stand it, they all piled inside, toweling off and changing back into their regular clothes. Rachel made buckets of popcorn for everyone to munch on and they ended up watching '_Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_' because she had the extended version and it was fun for everyone—explosions and gore for the guys, a love triangle for the girls, and even a scene of singing for Rachel and Kurt.

Aragorn was in the midst of falling off a cliff when Quinn returned from her bathroom trip and nudged Tina over so she could sit next to—big surprise—Rachel. Finn had tried to earlier, but Rachel squeezed herself in next to the arm of the couch and tugged Tina close to chat with her. It was fascinating watching Rachel pushing Finn away for a change.

When Quinn plopped next to Rachel, Mercedes knew it was time. She exchanged a look with Kurt, and he hurried to empty the rest of their popcorn into Puck's bowl, which Puck certainly didn't mind. Mercedes nudged Kurt to hurry up when she saw Quinn's hand wander onto Rachel's knee—and the diva just smiled, though she tried to hide it behind her hand.

"Shoot, we're out," Mercedes announced with a huff.

"Did you want me to get you some more?" Rachel asked, looking ready to get up.

"Heck no, girl. You've been running your feet off since we got here. I'll get it." She smiled and stood. "Quinn, you wanna help me out?"

The blonde frowned. Her expression clearly said, 'No.' But she sighed and stood, reluctantly releasing Rachel's knee as she followed Mercedes to the kitchen. As soon as they were safely ensconced in the room, Mercedes set down the popcorn bowl and faced Quinn, who raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"All right, girl, we need to talk straight," Mercedes began. "Now, I don't know what game you're playing with Rachel, but it needs to end right now. I understand that you find her annoying—we all do at times—but none of us wants to see her hurt. Because, like it or not, she's one of us and we will protect her, even from you."

Quinn stared at her so long Mercedes thought she wasn't going to reply at all. Then, gradually, she opened her mouth, taking her time in formulating her words.

"Let me get this straight. You think that I'm…trying to hurt Rachel? And you're willing to do…something to stop me from the aforementioned attempt on Rachel's feelings?" she asked slowly, brow arching as she spoke.

"That pretty much sums it up. And we totally get it if this more backlash from your breakup with Finn, but it's not cool to use Rachel in getting back at him," she said firmly.

The blonde was staring at her incredulously. "Finn and I broke up _months_ ago; why would—"

"Well, you seem really pissed at him," Mercedes explained. "And we couldn't figure out why, so we assumed that must've been it."

"You keep saying 'we.' I assume you're referring to Kurt, but does anyone else happen to be in on this little intervention or whatever the hell it is?" she snapped, folding her arms.

"Just me and Kurt," she said reassuringly. "Although it hasn't passed by Tina and Artie that you have been acting really weird today."

"I thought we were friends, Mercedes," Quinn said quietly.

Mercedes was surprised by how much that stung. "We are! I just don't—"

"Don't you trust me, then?" she cut in, scowling.

"Of course I do, but—"

"Just not with Rachel."

"Hell to the no." She swallowed and reformulated her words. Quinn refused to look at her. "Look, I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. I just gotta watch out for Rachel. She's pretty gullible sometimes; too eager to believe people when they treat her nicely. And you don't exactly have the best track record of being nice to her because you mean it."

Quinn shook her head, disbelieving. "You _hypocrites_."

It took Mercedes a minute to get it out. "What?"

"You have the _nerve_ to corner me for this little interrogation of yours, when you yourselves treat Rachel about as well as the dirt on your shoes," the blonde hissed intently, and Mercedes was surprised to find the Head Bitch In Charge staring her down. "Don't give me this bullshit about caring about her feelings. All you've ever cared about since day one is keeping her talent so you can go home with a trophy. Sure, you care about her on a basic level, as I've told her myself. But the only time you do that is when her back is turned. The rest of the time, all you can do is huff at her and call her annoying and make fun of her suggestions, which are better than yours half the time. Some friends you are."

Quinn sneered. Mercedes really had no idea what to say. Eventually, the blonde huffed and flipped her still-drying hair.

"And okay, you want to know the truth? I'll give you the front page rundown of my private motives for you and Kurt's little gossip column. And you'd better listen up, because I'm not going through it again." Quinn took a step closer, glare in full power. "I. Like. Rachel. I have for a long time. So whatever led you to believe I was being falsely nice to her was actually all real, and the little feud between Finn and I isn't about our breakup. It's because we both want Rachel. Are you happy now?"

Mercedes gaped. What could she say? She felt awful all of a sudden, and not very much like popping more popcorn. The fact was, Quinn was right. They weren't very good friends to Rachel, and evidently she wasn't a very good one to Quinn, either. She'd immediately jumped to the worst conclusion possible, instead of trusting her and taking her side. Sure, it was a little unbelievable—the idea that Quinn could actually like Rachel—but that shouldn't have made a difference. She should've trusted her. How was she supposed to apologize for that? It seemed impossible….

Quinn huffed again and whirled on her heel, trekking out of the room like a thundercloud. Mercedes had a feeling she wasn't going to be getting her friend back anytime soon, and the thought made her want to cry.

XXXXXX

"You're in my seat, Chang," Quinn snarled. "Move it."

He did so immediately, and she plunked next to a wide-eyed Rachel. She couldn't believe Mercedes's nerve. Sure, she hadn't thought glee would take the relationship well, exactly. But she never thought they would accuse her of playing on Rachel's feelings like that. Sure, she could be a little brusque sometimes, and she had played the role of being irritated with Rachel for quite a while. But that shouldn't have led them to the conclusion that she could be that cruel. Not if they were really her friends.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked quietly.

Quinn sighed and nodded, offering her the best smile she could at the moment—which was really just a pinched smirk. Rachel frowned.

"Yeah. What'd I miss?"

The brunette brightened automatically and started speaking rapidly. Quinn scooted closer, leaning in to hear better, and ignored Mercedes when she walked back in. She also ignored Finn's glare when she placed her hand back on Rachel's knee, where it belonged. Instead, Quinn focused on Rachel and the bright smile that lit up her face at the touch, and she felt a little calmer already.


	13. Introductions and Imbeciles

**A/N:** Sigh. I'm really sorry, you guys. I've had a rough couple of days and then I hit a spot of writer's block—at the most inconvenient moment possible, of course. I hope this makes up for it. :)

**Introductions and Imbeciles**

By the time the movie ended, Rachel was pretty bummed. As each battle scene passed, it got closer to the time when everyone would have to leave—and, more importantly, Quinn would. Rachel almost considered asking if she wanted to stay over, but she wasn't _that_ forward. Even when the person was showing such obvious interest, like Quinn was.

Not that Quinn was being too forward or unsubtle about it. Rachel hadn't noticed until today the way the blonde would discreetly watch her under her lashes, but as soon as she recognized it, she knew she'd seen her do it before—even though she hadn't known what it was at the time. By the end of the afternoon, the brunette was dying to know how long this had been going on.

Unfortunately, even Rachel knew this was not the appropriate venue in which to start asking Quinn questions like that. Even though she really, _really_ wanted to.

Instead, the brunette pushed her focus onto her role as hostess, which included standing at the door at the end of the party. Not by Quinn.

To her surprise, Brittany hugged her when she left, afterward bounding down the sidewalk as though nothing unusual had happened. When Rachel turned to Santana, the Latina promptly said, "Don't expect that from me. And next time? Booze. Makes a good party even better. Keep that in mind, loser." And marched off after the blonde. Rachel might've rolled her eyes if she wasn't too busy doing an internal victory dance over the indirect compliment she'd just been given—and by Santana, no less.

Kurt awkwardly patted her on the shoulder and thanked her for the party before he left, and then Mercedes did something really unexpected. She _hugged_ her.

Rachel wasn't averse to hugs—actually, she was very tactile. She was just rarely ever close enough to someone emotionally to show it. But she and Mercedes had only ever hugged once, and that was because Rachel had been so moved by her amazing performance she'd been unable to help herself. So it was a little awkward, but she patted her back—she didn't want her to think she was rejecting the show of friendship—and smiled when Mercedes pulled away and told her, in the sincerest tone, that it had been a great party. And then she left with Kurt.

Rachel was so taken aback she didn't notice Noah sweeping up behind her until it was too late, and he was already swinging her in the air. She squealed and fought against him, laughing through her scolding when he grinned at her and took off for his car. Matt and Mike came through next, carrying Artie, and all three of them were chattering at once so she couldn't tell what they were saying. But she assumed it was all good, since they were grinning.

Tina and Quinn were still chatting, so Finn shuffled awkwardly to the door for his turn. Rachel winced at the look on his face. He looked so uncomfortable, but not in the way he used to with her. Before, it was discomfort because of feelings he couldn't act on. Now, it was like he didn't know how to take her.

"This was…really fun," he said eventually.

She nodded. "I'm glad."

They both tried their hardest to push through the awkward pause that followed.

"Look, I know there's stuff we need to talk about. Obviously. But…can it wait?" Finn asked hesitantly, like a little boy hoping his parents wouldn't spank him until they got home.

Rachel really didn't want to put it off anymore, but she agreed because she understood. It had been a long day, they were both tired, and sometimes putting off the inevitable just a little bit helped. It would give him time to prepare himself, and she owed him that.

"Sure," she said, as lightly as she could, and Finn offered her a small smile.

He spread his arms and scooped her up, and she pressed her chin over his shoulder as best she could. He really was too tall for her. That should've been her first clue. She almost giggled at the thought, but figured it wasn't the most appropriate time to do so. Instead she gave him a good squeeze before he let go, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned down the walk after giving her another resigned smile.

Rachel felt truly sorry for him, but her mother was right. In all honesty, if she stayed with him, she was just stringing him along while she waited for the real thing to come sweeping her off her feet. She wished her mind hadn't been so messed up before. Maybe she could've figured that out on her own, although it might've taken longer than it took Shelby.

Tina hugged her then. "Great party, Rachel."

She beamed. "Thanks. I was hoping we could plan our next date, but I think everyone was a little too tired to deal with that."

"Actually, Quinn and I were just talking about it, and we thought maybe we could all go to the county fair next week," she said, glancing at the blonde with a smile. "It would at least get us out of the house, and the boys wouldn't eat you out of house and home."

A grin spread across her cheeks. "That _is_ a definite plus. I may need to cut down a bit, but starving is never a good diet." When Tina giggled, she added, "And that's a great idea. We'll have to set it up over the weekend."

"Yeah, definitely. Well, Artie is waiting for me, so I should run." She hugged Rachel again. "Thanks for having us." And when she turned to go, she whispered, "Good luck."

And Rachel was surprised for the millionth time that day. She frowned after Tina for a moment, wondering what that meant, before turning around to find Quinn waiting there. She tried to stamp down on the flutter that rose up in her middle at the thought that they were alone, in her house. The brunette cleared her throat and smiled.

"So…." She had absolutely nothing to follow that up with. She hated that.

Quinn sighed. "I should…."

She gestured out the door and Rachel tried to hide her disappointment. When she felt she was about to fail miserably, she ducked her head and stepped back to clear the entryway for her. Quinn brushed by, and Rachel was about to say good night when the blonde turned back.

"Listen, I-I wanted to ask you something." When the brunette nodded, she took a breath and went on, "As you know, I've been to see a lot of couples this week about the adoption," she said slowly, looking almost…anxious? "And, well, you know my opinion." She smiled wryly. "My mom went, too, and she agrees with me, so I finally convinced her to let me at least visit the Shaws."

"Oh, the couple you showed me before?" Rachel asked eagerly.

The blonde nodded, a smile playing across her lips. "I set up an appointment with them tomorrow, but Mom already had plans to visit my sister this weekend, and I need Puck to take care of the baby while I'm gone. So I was wondering…." She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her keys. "Would you want to go? With me?"

"Yes."

The word was out before Rachel could check it and cut down on the zeal in her voice. She felt her cheeks warm, but then Quinn gave her the Dazzler, and the heat changed to something else.

"Great. I'll be by tomorrow around nine," she said, a tad uncertainly. Rachel nodded to assure her it was fine, and Quinn smiled again.

They stood there awkwardly, Rachel wishing desperately for that moment back in the bathroom—that moment of certainty. But Quinn wasn't making that move again. And the diva had never been very good with patience, so she heaved a sigh and went to say good night after a few moments of this shuffling, but then Quinn moved, before she had a chance.

The blonde pressed her hand swiftly to Rachel's cheek, but not roughly, her hazel eyes shining with determination again, stealing the brunette's breath away. Quinn swept her thumb gently over her cheek bone and Rachel leaned unconsciously into the soft touch, focusing most of her attention on the blonde's perfect lips and the fingers rooting through her hair at the moment, holding her in place.

But instead of kissing her the way she'd been about to in the bathroom, Quinn did something completely unexpected, and Rachel couldn't help but think it was a little bit of payback. Because the blonde did dip in, and then she dove for the cheek she wasn't cradling in her soft, soft hand, kissing it lightly for a heavenly moment before she pulled back with a smirk on her face. And that—the smirk—was what made Rachel think it was payback.

"Good night, Rachel," Quinn said quietly, and then she waltzed away, leaving Rachel to her tingling cheek and heavy breathing.

XXXXXX

Needless to say, Rachel didn't sleep much. And when she did, she was tossing and turning a lot. But she still woke up at six, hopped on her elliptical, showered, and ate her breakfast—the routine she had completed every single day since she was twelve, and she was finished at precisely her usual time. This might've proved more of a burden and less of a help if her dads weren't due back at that time, but fortunately, they were.

So, instead of sitting idly and waiting for Quinn to arrive—which she was sure would've driven her mad within two minutes—Rachel helped her dads unpack and asked them about their trip. Daddy went straight to bed after they were finished, since he was always completely exhausted by the time they got home (traveling just did that to him). But she and Dad went back downstairs and she told him about the party, sparing him the parts where Quinn made her all hot and bothered.

It was almost time for Quinn to arrive when Dad sent Rachel to retrieve his bifocals from upstairs. And that was how he ended up opening the door.

Rachel hopped down the stairs, brandishing the glasses, oblivious to the blonde standing in the doorway.

"Here you go. You're really going to need them—I think Daddy's going to be zonked out for hours. He didn't even notice me—h-hi, Quinn." She swallowed, glancing between Dad and Quinn. Both of whom were looking amused.

The blonde smiled. "Hey."

Dad glanced between Quinn and Rachel meaningfully, so the brunette quickly took the hint and edged closer to the blonde, motioning her further inside.

"Um, Quinn, this is my dad, Dean Berry," she said ceremoniously.

"Nice to meet you," he said and shook her hand firmly.

"The pleasure is all mine, sir. I've heard a lot about you and your husband. I've been looking forward to meeting you, actually," Quinn said so politely it made Rachel beam.

"And this is Quinn Fabray, but you knew that," she told Dad.

But apparently he didn't, because he did a double-take, looking between them rapidly. And then she saw his gaze harden and he gave Rachel his, 'Are you kidding me?' look. She winced. Dad was part of the reason she had so little control over her emotions, why she was such an open book. Ever since she could remember, Dad disapproved of hiding your feelings. And she didn't know if he actually could control his emotions or not, because that's what he lived by. Daddy was where she learned to control those emotions enough to act.

"Dad…" she murmured uncomfortably, gently warning.

Quinn was far from stupid, though, and she read the silence better than Rachel expected. Even though Dad wasn't exactly being subtle, it was still a surprise to her when Quinn spoke up.

"If I may, sir." He frowned at her, but nodded. "I completely understand your concern in allowing your daughter to spend any amount of time with me after all I've done to her, but I assure you that you can trust me with her. I mean, I'm the same Quinn who's in glee club with her, who's her friend. I've realized my mistakes and I'm doing my best to make amends. And I promise I'll never, ever intentionally hurt Rachel ever again."

Dad's expression was lightening, much to Rachel's relief, but he still looked uncertain. Quinn wasn't finished, though.

"And…I've come to an even more important realization over the past few months," she said, and Rachel just knew she was building up to _something_.

Dad didn't. "And what's that?"

Quinn slung her arm around Rachel's shoulders. "She's just too damn cute to be mean to."

The brunette looked up at her in surprise, and Quinn just grinned. Dad was laughing, and Rachel's stomach unclenched. For a moment there, she'd been afraid he was going to refuse to let her go.

"I like you," Dad decided at length, still chuckling.

Quinn smirked. "You're not bad yourself, sir."

This set off another round of chuckling. "All right, girls. Be safe." He pecked Rachel on the forehead. "And don't forget we're going to your uncle's for dinner."

"Oh, right. Well, I may still see you, depending on when we get back." She glanced at Quinn, who smiled.

He nodded. "Just be careful."

She was about to tell him she would be when Quinn said in a mock-whisper, "Don't worry. I hear she has a rape whistle."

Her dad was roaring with laughter by now. Rachel beamed at Quinn, and the blonde smiled proudly before she gestured for her to go first. The brunette gave her still-laughing dad two kisses on the cheek—one for Daddy—and headed down the walk with Quinn.

XXXXXX

Rachel wouldn't stop fiddling with her sleeves. Once they were safe in the car, Quinn had done everything she could to get her to relax. She'd brought a CD of the music Rachel seemed to have enjoyed the most whilst at the blonde's house. And even though Rachel grinned and agreed that she should put it in, she still seemed nervous. She didn't even sing along.

Quinn opened a conversation with her, and that was easy enough. Rachel responded positively and they chatted nonstop after that, just as they had done almost every night that week. But the brunette was still twisting the ends of her sleeves, and Quinn was a little worried she was going to ruin the shirt.

They were about fifteen minutes from the house when Quinn couldn't take it anymore. She sighed and glanced down at the fidgeting hands in Rachel's lap.

"What's wrong?"

Rachel jumped, but she put on what Quinn liked to think of as her Tony Award smile and said brightly, "Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I couldn't be better."

Quinn arched her eyebrow, which always worked like a charm. All of Rachel's faking seemed to come to a halt whenever that eyebrow lifted, as though it was a switch or something, and up was off. It didn't fail this time. The brunette's smile faltered, and she looked out the window to try and compose herself, but she sighed when she turned back, as though resigned.

"It's just…I'm a little nervous," she admitted quietly.

Quinn knew this, but she also knew it wasn't the time to be a smartass. Sometimes wit was appropriate around an anxious Rachel—it would loosen her up and make her laugh—but sometimes all she needed was a listening ear and a comforting smile. So the blonde softened and asked gently, "Why?"

"I don't know exactly," Rachel started. She paused, and then the words came spilling out so rapidly Quinn had a little trouble keeping up. "I suppose it could partly be due to the fact that this is our first outing alone together—not that I think it's anything other than what it is, which is a friend morally supporting another friend in a difficult situation—but it's still a bit new for us and, frankly, I _am_ a little afraid of embarrassing you. I mean, I hardly ever stop talking and I'm aware that I lack certain social graces, and I'm not ashamed to be who I am, but Kurt was really annoyed the other day when I was talking to a cashier and I certainly don't want to alienate _you_ in any way, and I know you need to make a good impression on these people so that Beth has a smooth transition and people don't often like me—at least not right away, as you know, because it's taken most of glee club the better part of a year to learn to just tolerate me and—"

Rachel was absolutely adorable when she rambled. Quinn didn't used to think so. It was annoying to her, even. But eventually the habit seemed to grow on her, and she didn't know if it was because of the little sparkle in Rachel's eyes when she did it, or the way she worded things, or if it was because Quinn preferred being quiet and she liked Rachel's voice. Whatever it was, it had become one of her favorite things about the brunette.

So it was no surprise to the blonde when her control snapped at the next red light and she seized Rachel's chin—gently, never roughly—and kissed her on the cheek she'd neglected the night before. Quinn wanted to kiss Rachel for real, more than anything, but now didn't seem like the right time. Not in her car in front of a red light when they were both restrained by seatbelts. And she was currently kicking herself for the little tease last night. She should've just kissed her then. What was wrong with a good night kiss at the door?

She gave herself a mental shake and returned to the present, where Rachel was smiling shyly at her and blushing. Quinn smiled back out of habit and tilted the brunette's chin up, just the slightest.

"You could never embarrass me," she said firmly.

Rachel's smile grew and her cheeks were pink, but Quinn didn't get to dwell on the moment, because the light had turned green and the person behind them was about ready to push her down the road if she didn't move soon.

Rachel was silent for the rest of the drive, but it wasn't a nervous silence, like before. Her sleeves were no longer twisted up in her fingers and she wasn't biting her lip. Instead she was just smiling out the window, perfectly happy, and Quinn felt the deepest satisfaction with knowing that she was the cause of that.

When they pulled up to the house, both immediately released their seatbelts, but Quinn needed a minute and Rachel never pushed, never even huffed in impatience. This was all a big process, Quinn knew, but she kind of had her heart set on the Shaws. They weren't too far away, and they would know how to take care of her baby, and Puck and Rachel liked them, too. And it all seemed kind of perfect. So she was taking that moment to brace herself for the worst while praying for the best.

Then she nodded to Rachel that it was time to get out, and when the brunette came around the car to meet her as they walked toward the big white house, Quinn took her hand and didn't let go. She took a deep breath when they arrived at the door, looking to Rachel for encouragement. She gave it with a gentle smile, and Quinn rang the doorbell.

The man who opened the door looked nothing like his picture. Of course, he was recognizable, but in the picture he had seemed…stiffer. In person, his shoulders were relaxed and his smile seemed easy, and Quinn liked him all the more.

"How can I help you?" he asked as he pushed the screen door open to them.

Quinn took another breath, squeezing Rachel's hand for support. Rachel squeezed back.

"Mr. Shaw?" He nodded. "I'm Quinn Fabray."

Mr. Shaw immediately lit up, which was a surprise since he was already so warm-looking. He offered a large hand, which she shook awkwardly, since it was the wrong one and she refused to let go of Rachel's hand. He didn't seem to notice.

"It's so lovely to finally meet you," Mr. Shaw said emphatically. "Your agent has already told us so much—" he paused to turn "—darling, she's here!" He turned back. "Please, please, come in."

Quinn didn't really have a choice in the matter, since he took her elbow and ushered her inside, Rachel tagging along behind her. She hurried to make introductions as they made their way into the blue-colored living room she'd seen many times in looking at photos.

"Th-this is Rachel," she told him as he scooted past them, rushing to motion them onto the velvety couch. "She's my…friend."

Mr. Shaw smiled at her. "Hello, Rachel. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," Rachel said politely, sinking down next to Quinn on the couch.

"Melissa, are you coming?" he called.

He was wringing his hands with his excitement, and Quinn understood the feeling. But she had Rachel to hold onto, so there was no need to fidget.

"As fast as I can!" a woman called back. "Would she like any tea?"

Mr. Shaw turned to ask, but Quinn shook her head after exchanging a glance with Rachel confirming she had the same answer.

"No, thank you."

"They don't need anything, hon. Just come on out!"

"All right, all right." A shorter woman huffed as she came into the room, a liver-coated retriever by the name of Duke at her heels. "I'm here."

Mrs. Shaw was also different than her picture, but in the opposite direction. The natural smile she'd had on camera was now pinched in real life, and she looked more worn than in the picture. But she was still friendly enough, offering the correct hand to both Quinn and Rachel as they exchanged names.

Duke was clean and friendly enough to please even Quinn's mom. He came up to sniff them both, wagging his tail when Quinn stroked his head. When Rachel scratched behind his ear—apparently just at _that_ spot—he decided she was his best friend and didn't move from between her legs until she was too caught up in the conversation to pay attention to him. Then he retreated to his mom and flopped down at her feet with a pout.

To Quinn's relief, the awkwardness wore off a bit as they chatted with the couple. Her adoption agent had given her a list of questions to ask, which she loosely followed, but mostly the conversation flowed by itself. They didn't only talk about the baby and the arrangements that would be made, should all the parties decide to go through with it. They ended up talking about school and why Quinn was set on this and about Mr. and Mrs. Shaw's choices of profession and Duke's obedience training and, to Quinn's surprise, glee.

Mr. and Mrs. Shaw were keenly interested as soon as Quinn mentioned that it had helped her get through the pregnancy, and they ended up talking about it for quite a while. Mr. Shaw and Rachel especially seemed to bond over it, since they both loved show tunes. In fact, the two became so involved that Mrs. Shaw and Quinn ended up continuing the conversation on another topic entirely while the other two were still talking animatedly. Though Quinn's hand never left Rachel's.

By the time lunch rolled around, Quinn was comfortable enough to agree to staying, and Mrs. Shaw whipped them up tomato sandwiches while they kept talking. Even though Quinn had read most of the tale of their difficulty with conception in their profile, it turned out to be much different hearing it from their own lips, and she found she didn't mind hearing it again. Rachel was near tears when Mr. Shaw told them about the visit to the doctor that confirmed their infertility, and Quinn pulled her into a one-armed hug without hesitation.

After lunch, they all spent about an hour talking about the baby, and Quinn had brought pictures for them that the couple simply fawned over, telling her how much she looked like her. Rachel had only had limited contact with the baby, but every time she had something to add she lit up the way she had when she'd gotten to feed her, and Quinn couldn't help thinking that she would definitely be bringing Rachel on her visits to her baby at the Shaws.

Her adoption agent had warned her against giving false hope or trying to make up her mind too soon, but she couldn't help it. She really liked the Shaws, and so did Rachel. That was enough for her, and she knew it would be enough for Puck—he trusted them. Quinn only hoped her mother could be won over, but she was fairly certain that as soon as she tasted Mrs. Shaw's tomato sandwiches and heard the story about Duke's first visit to the daycare center she worked at, she would be sold, too.

So when they were on their way out, Quinn felt no guilt in saying, "I know it's really soon, and everything, but I mean it when I say you guys have been my favorites since this whole thing started, and I really think this is going to work."

Mrs. Shaw hugged her and Mr. Shaw grinned.

"It was _so_ nice meeting you both," Mr. Shaw told them sincerely. "And Rachel, don't forget to listen to that song, all right? Remember, track number seven."

Rachel beamed. "I'll remember."

"I hope we'll be seeing you both soon," Mrs. Shaw said, and Quinn smiled to reassure her.

"Me, too. Have a good evening."

"You, too."

They called their goodbyes, and Duke pouted at Rachel some more before they got into the car. The Shaws waved from the porch as Quinn pulled out, and she was surprised to see the time. It was almost five o'clock. Rachel sighed about two minutes onto the road.

"That was fun. Didn't you think? I thought it was fun," she said delightedly.

Quinn smiled. "It was fun."

"Yeah."

They paused comfortably, and Rachel sang along softly to the CD Quinn had popped back in. The blonde readjusted her grip on the steering wheel. After all the stress of meeting her baby's possible future adoptive parents and wondering if she'd be able to do it without Rachel there with her, the tricky part was finally here.

"You hungry?" she asked, and it sounded too casual to her ears.

Rachel didn't seem to notice. "A little. You?"

She bobbed her head. "I think there's a café about halfway home we could stop at."

The brunette just smiled, and they eased back into conversation. Occasionally they would just stop to sing along to songs they especially liked, and at one point they scared the crap out of the people next to them at a red light because they were banging their heads, as though to hard metal instead of the classic 60s they were actually listening to. The other car sped off so fast when the light turned green that Quinn had to pull over because they were both laughing too hard to breathe properly, let alone drive.

When they arrived at the café, things got even trickier. Quinn let the car door go, but she opened the door to the café for Rachel. The brunette only said thank you and stepped on through. It was an oldies styled café, almost 50s-looking, so they ended up sitting on stools at the bar together, so there was no chair to pull out, either.

After they ordered, things went much the way they had over the past few days—they talked about everything and anything. Only this time, Quinn got to see the way Rachel lit up over certain things, instead of just sensing it in her voice. And she got to watch as the brunette puzzled over and thought about points the blonde would bring up, chewing her lip as she reached a conclusion. And, best of all, when they briefly argued over who would be paying, Quinn got to see Rachel's eyes light up and her spine stiffen and her cheeks flush once again.

"I got to the receipt first. Therefore, it's mine," Quinn said presently.

"And you already had to pay for gas; you shouldn't have to pay for my meal, too," Rachel retorted, making another grab for it.

The blonde held it just out of reach, delighting in the brunette's failed attempts.

"First, the amount of gas my car needs is not altered by you sitting in it," she said sarcastically, and there were those wonderfully narrowing eyes again. "Second, I invited you along. That means I pay for you."

Rachel scowled, folding her arms. "Sometimes I wonder if you start fights with me on purpose."

Quinn winked. "You'll never know. I'll be right back."

And she hopped off the stool to go pay at the register, leaving a fuming Rachel behind. Quinn knew the brunette wouldn't stay mad for too long. Even though she'd been denied the opportunity to beat the blonde in an argument yet again, she would feel too guilty about staying mad at her for doing something nice, and eventually she would break down. Quinn smiled to herself.

The smile didn't last long, because when she turned to retrieve Rachel, there were two guys standing there. Talking to her. One of them looked a little bored; his eyes kept wandering over the café, landing on decorations briefly before he tossed in a nod and a smile to seem as though he was contributing. The other one, however, was definitely involved in whatever Rachel was saying. He was standing closer and nodding along, gesturing animatedly when it was his turn to talk.

Quinn bristled. It was enough that she'd had to watch Rachel fawn over Jesse and battle Finn. She wasn't putting up with some red neck bar hoppers with braces trying to steal her away.

She coached herself to be casual as she walked up—marched, was more like, but still—and slung her arm around Rachel's shoulders. But it wasn't the playful way she'd done it earlier that day, in front of Mr. Berry. She glared at the guy talking to her, sliding closer to Rachel in the process, trying to get across the message: _mine_.

"Oh, hey!" Rachel said brightly. She wasn't mad anymore, at least. "These guys saw us at Regionals and they wanted to say hello. Can you believe it? We're practically famous."

Quinn smiled at her. "Won't Kurt be thrilled?"

Rachel grinned then. Both boys surveyed Quinn, the bored one with a little more interest than the other.

"Yeah, we really thought you guys should've won. Those Vocal Adrenaline kids were like sculptures up there, right, Kyle?" the one interested in Rachel said, glancing at Quinn a little nervously.

'Kyle' nodded half-heartedly.

"Try talking to them in person," Quinn bit out. When the boy chuckled, she turned her attention to Rachel, dismissing him. "You ready to go?"

The brunette nodded, seeming oblivious to any tension, and hopped off her stool.

"It was really nice meeting you guys. Maybe we'll see you around," she said politely.

They both nodded, but the nameless boy shot a glance at Quinn before he did so. She just arched a brow and tugged Rachel away with ease.

Quinn was admittedly a little tense after that, but Rachel soon had her loosened up—like she always did—and she forgot about the stupid boys at the café and her remaining anger with Mercedes and her worry that Mom still wouldn't approve of the Shaws. Instead she thought about Rachel and her voice and how cute it was when she rambled and how anxious she was for the next part of the evening. Because it really all came down to what Rachel was going to do when she pulled into the driveway.

"Well, here we are," she announced unnecessarily, shooting a smirk at the brunette next to her.

Over the last few miles, Rachel had grown quiet. But not nervous quiet or angry quiet—just contemplative. Although now she looked a little bit anxious, because she kept worrying her lip between her teeth.

"I had fun today," the brunette said quietly.

Quinn hoped she wasn't about to kiss her on the cheek and bolt again. "Me, too."

Rachel bit her lip until it was white, and then she blurted, "Do you want to come in?"

The blonde's shoulders released their tension and she was finally able to give Rachel the fullest smile since they left the Shaws. She nodded, and Rachel smiled her excited little smile before she unbuckled. Quinn followed suit, turning off the engine at last before following Rachel to the front door. Once they were inside, Quinn kicked off her shoes next to Rachel's and waited by the couch while the brunette went about turning on lights.

When she returned, the diva seemed unable to meet the blonde's eyes.

"Do you…want to come up?" she asked, and it was so quiet Quinn barely heard it.

She decided it would be best to keep her answer light. "Sure."

Rachel flashed her that little smile again and Quinn returned it before offering a hand. The brunette took it almost automatically, and Quinn couldn't help the relief that coursed through her at feeling her warm touch again. Rachel led her up the stairs and, when they arrived in the bedroom, she shut the door out of habit, it seemed, because she winced when she heard it latch.

Quinn pretended not to notice anything, simply offering reassuring smiles to her and sinking down on the edge of the bed when Rachel sat in a little director's chair she hadn't noticed before. It made her smile.

They were silent again, and Quinn's mind wandered. Rachel's mattress was really soft. Not that her own wasn't, but the springs seemed a little bit stiffer compared to this. Plus, the blankets were just amazing, and she wondered if they smelled of Rachel. She was just wondering what it would feel like to lay her head on one of the pillows when the brunette spoke up.

"I want to ask you something." _Now_ Rachel looked anxious.

Quinn gave her another of those small, courage-boosting smiles. "Ask away."

She avoided her gaze. "I think you'll laugh."

"Why, is it funny?" She'd hoped that would lighten the mood a little, but Rachel only sighed.

"I guess it depends on which end of the question you're on," she murmured, and Quinn nodded.

"Okay. Then I promise, no matter how ridiculous it sounds to me, I won't laugh," she said sincerely.

Rachel eyed her warily, so Quinn kept her expression carefully neutral. If she was smiling, Rachel would just think she was already laughing. Eventually, the brunette sighed.

"Okay. Was…today, with the café and the ride and…everything…?" Rachel huffed, irritated with her inability to form words. She closed her eyes and tried again. "Was this a date?"

_Yes_. And Quinn really, really wanted to say it. But it left her no opening. There was no way for things to progress after that if she simply said yes. Other than perhaps an 'oh' and the eventual outpouring of questions from Rachel. But Quinn was sick of waiting. So, she pretended to consider it, and Rachel opened her eyes to watch her apprehensively.

"I think there has to be kissing for it to be officially labeled a date," she said slowly, and Rachel drooped. "Or at least that's what Santana says, among her many other qualifications."

Again, her little joke fell flat. Rachel just nodded and Quinn sighed, leaning forward on her elbows.

"Now I have to ask you something, and the promise not to laugh extends to you," she said sternly.

Thankfully, Rachel smiled a little. "Okay. What is it?"

And here was the toughest part of the evening. Quinn took a deep breath, met Rachel's warm brown eyes, and asked, "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Rachel looked a little taken aback at the question, and Quinn waited for the shock to wear off before she jumped to any conclusions—like the brunette actually not wanting her to kiss her. But then the shock did wear off, and Rachel licked her lips nervously, but she couldn't seem to speak, so she just nodded. Once, almost imperceptibly. It was enough for Quinn.

She rose off the bed and took her time approaching, giving Rachel time to back out. Apparently she didn't want to, because when Quinn took both her hands and tugged upward, the brunette stood obediently and searched the blonde's eyes as she waited. Quinn smiled, although the heat rapidly coursing through her with the anticipation made it difficult for her to focus on anything but the beautiful lips in front of her.

But she forced herself to slow down, because this had to be perfect for Rachel. So Quinn didn't let herself dive in right away. Instead she lifted her hands away from Rachel's and cupped her cheeks tenderly, letting her fingers root through the wondrously soft locks at the brunette's scalp. Rachel's eyes fluttered with the sensation, and Quinn made a mental note of that before she offered another small smile—which she was vaguely aware of Rachel returning—and dipped down to gently take her lips.

_Finally_.


	14. Fire and Fact

**A/N:** You guys rock. :)

**Fire and Fact**

Rachel decided two things. One, God must've made it his own personal duty to craft Quinn's lips. And two, they should've been doing this all along.

As soon as Quinn initiated the kiss, Rachel's eyes fluttered closed of their own accord and she sank into the blonde's delicious strawberry lips, quickly becoming an eager participant as any and all thoughts of how it might be different because it's a girl and it's _Quinn_ left her. It was different, of course. If she'd thought making out with Jesse or watching Noah work out was drool-worthy, this was knee-buckling, mind-boggling, wildfire-spreading, and just downright _amazing_.

An ache had settled between her legs again and, even though she felt like she was burning up, Rachel scrambled for more contact, wanting—_needing_—it. She arched up into Quinn's mouth more firmly, simultaneously drawing closer and sliding brave hands over the curve of the blonde's side and up her back to tug her nearer. The brunette might've felt embarrassed by her bravery if it hadn't served to spur Quinn on.

The blonde moved until their bodies were flush together, and her magical hands deftly combed through the brunette's locks, and when Rachel arched upward, the kiss automatically became less gentle, more insistent. Rachel didn't mind. At all.

The consistent pressure was delightful and intense and breathtaking all at once, and Rachel was absolutely giddy. She was so giddy, in fact, that she was actually put out when she realized that her lungs were burning, but she pulled back. After all, if she suffocated to death, she wouldn't be able to keep kissing Quinn, which would be a tragedy of epic proportions.

She must've looked as jubilant as she felt, because Quinn Dazzled at her and swooped in to steal another, briefer kiss before she leaned their foreheads together.

"Now it's a date," she murmured teasingly.

For the first time in her life, Rachel wasn't displeased when she couldn't think of anything to say. She couldn't believe this was happening. Two weeks ago she'd thought if she and Quinn exchanged a 'hello' it would be progress. A couple days ago, she'd thought if Quinn found out about her crush, she'd be swimming in corn syrup. And now, here she was—

That line of thought was cut off when Quinn had regained a semi-normal breathing rate. She dove in again and Rachel's thoughts went from coherent to _oh my God, oh my God, oh my God_ all over again. Except…there was always that little part of her brain. The part that told her getting so out of control wasn't a good idea. Control was good. It was the same part that reminded her not to need too much. Wanting was okay—you could want all you wanted—but needing was bad. Needing got you hurt.

And now it was trying to tug her away from the sensations Quinn was creating. Rachel tried to bat it away, because _wow_, Quinn smelled good—but this wasn't good, she needed to focus—almost like lilacs, which were just so heavenly, but even better—and she needed to calm down and think about this—there was just something about that smell that was so uniquely _Quinn_ and—and she needed to get back in control.

The battle in her head was distracting her to the point where she was barely responding to Quinn, and perhaps if the blonde had been less perceptive, the sensations would've won over the voice of logic. But she noticed Rachel's distraction, and she slowed herself, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek instead.

"What's wrong?" she murmured, and Rachel's knees nearly lost their strength because the feeling of Quinn's lips moving against her skin was just _so_—focus, damnit!

This was Quinn Fabray. Quinn was kissing her and running her hands through her hair and pressing her back into the wall—_when did that happen?_—and it was all amazing, but…. It was Quinn, and, she reminded herself, a week ago she thought the blonde hated her. In fact, the ex-cheerleader hated her practically from the moment they met. And for a reason. Rachel was a geek, and a friendship with her would've completely destroyed Quinn's popularity within seconds. And this? This would be even worse for her, so—

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Rachel pulled back to catch Quinn's gaze, and the blonde frowned. Her brow was arching again, but this time it was in confusion. It was only when she opened her mouth to speak that the brunette realized how that may have sounded. A new wave of heat washed over her cheeks and she hurried to explain.

"Not—I mean, it's just that I-I'm me and you're…you know, and—no?" Quinn shook her head, brow still furrowed. Rachel sighed. "I just mean…you-you're _Quinn Fabray_ and you're kissing _me_ and it just seems like you might not be thinking very clearly and—"

And then she laughed. Rachel frowned, searching the blonde's face for a hint of what she could possibly be thinking, but Quinn was as much of a closed door as ever. Rather than explaining, she stroked Rachel's hair back from her face and chuckled at her. The brunette was about ready to squeeze her way out of where she was pinned against the wall, so she could escape the humiliation, when Quinn finally spoke.

"You are off-the-charts adorable; did you know that?" she said matter-of-factly.

Rachel's cheeks went even warmer, but she frowned. "Wh—"

"Stop worrying," Quinn instructed, but not meanly. "I want this."

Before Rachel could protest, the blonde kissed her again. She tried to slip out of it so she could speak, but Quinn only pressed harder and then Rachel felt her tongue smooth across her bottom lip. Her mouth dropped open instinctively and—_holy mother of all things good and pure_—Quinn's _tongue_ was in her mouth and it was so _incredible_.

Quinn seemed to agree, because she moaned and it vibrated against Rachel's lips and the brunette's legs refused to hold her up anymore. Fortunately, she had Quinn there to hold onto and she wrapped her arms around her neck and grabbed on for all she was worth. Quinn apparently sensed her trouble, because she slipped her hands downward for the first time since they started kissing and held her around the waist, keeping her up while she did marvelous things to Rachel's tongue.

There were no more thoughts of stopping and asking questions anymore. In fact, Rachel couldn't remember what it was she'd been about to say. Sensation won over logic this time, and she let her fingers tangle in blonde hair and inhaled as much of that wonderful scent as she could, and scrabbled to be closer to Quinn. Their bodies were so tight together it was impossible to achieve, but Rachel couldn't stop wanting it, and Quinn didn't seem to mind. She just gathered her up in her arms and massaged her back and ran her hot hands over her sides and kept on worshiping her with her lips.

After another brief breather and a session of exchanging feather-light kisses, Quinn started tugging at Rachel's shirt—not to take it off, but for her to follow as she backed toward the bed. Rachel didn't hesitate, too wrapped up in the intoxicating heat and smell that was Quinn to think about it. The blonde sat and scooted back along the bed, and the brunette followed her lips until they were both sprawled out on the mattress and Quinn was lying flat out underneath her. Rachel was so excited by the sight that she groaned and this time she was the one stealing lips and deepening the kiss.

The strain of holding herself up over the ex-cheerleader for so long made the diva's arms burn, but she didn't care. She just kept kissing and kissing and kissing, and she felt like she could do it forever and die happy because Quinn tasted so good and the noises she made were miraculous. It was only when Rachel lost her balance and, in recovering, accidentally slipped a leg between Quinn's that things started to get a little overwhelming.

It was amazing—all of it—and Rachel wanted Quinn so badly, but it was too much, too fast. The wonderful sensations started to overpower her and she felt herself trembling, both from the effort of holding herself up and from the excitement of it all. And the very second it happened, Quinn seemed to sense it and she pulled out of the kiss. Her eyes were engulfed in darkness and she looked like she'd just downed a gallon of red fruit punch, but she looked so concerned the brunette forgot about all that.

"What's wrong?" Quinn murmured. Her fingers paused where they'd been stroking Rachel's arms, and the concern immediately turned to alarm. "You're shaking."

Rachel wanted to tell her that she was fine, but she couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone a cohesive sentence. And before she knew what was happening, Quinn had them sitting up and she'd snatched the blanket off the end of the brunette's bed and had it tucked around her shoulders. Rachel didn't know whether to laugh or cry when the blonde pressed her hand over her forehead, all traces of arousal burnt out by her distress.

Rachel took the hand and gently tugged it away. "I don't think that's going to be a very accurate read right now."

Even though it came out a murmur, Rachel was still proud of herself for not biting her tongue or lisping or something equally embarrassing. Quinn's frown didn't go away, and the brunette was half-amused, half-surprised to see that she was now wringing her hands anxiously. Rachel thought to tease her, but she was still a little wired herself, so instead she took a breath, shrugged off the blanket, and put a hand over both of Quinn's, stilling their movement.

"Besides, I'm _fine_," she said firmly.

"You were shaking. That's not okay," the blonde replied, and she sounded so upset that Rachel kissed her.

Quinn responded and the brunette kept it tender and chaste, cupping her cheek gently before she pulled away. The blonde stroked her wrist, keeping her hand in place, and Rachel tilted their foreheads together again.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, making the blonde hair flutter. "I just got a little too…it was just too much at once, and I'm sorry I can't—" she swallowed, and Quinn took the hand on her cheek and entwined their fingers. "I'm just not…ready yet and maybe we could just…take it slow?" She winced, remembering how angry Jesse had been with her hesitance. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Hey, hey," the blonde interrupted softly, nudging their noses to get her attention. She smiled when Rachel peered up at her. "I'm not mad."

The brunette leaned back, eyeing her. "You're not?"

She shook her head and stroked her hair comfortingly. "If you recall, the last time I had sex I got pregnant." Rachel couldn't help a giggle at her dry tone. "And while I sincerely doubt that could happen with us, I'm not quite ready either. We'll take our time, and you let me know when you're ready again." She kissed her forehead.

"Again?" Rachel frowned.

Quinn's eyebrow rose. "Well, I thought you and Jesse—"

"No! I-I'm a…I've never…." She blushed.

"But Puck said…." And then the blonde smirked, her self-satisfied smirk. "I see."

Rachel bit her lip sheepishly. "I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize," she cut in, still smirking. "I actually prefer it this way. I almost killed him when Puck told me."

The brunette was half-flattered, half-surprised. "Is this why you broke his nose?" she asked curiously.

"To get into your pants?" Quinn retorted, and she grinned when Rachel flushed. A moment later, she sobered. "Yes. For you. I wasn't about to let him get away with hurting you the way Mr. Schue was."

She was rewarded with a kiss, and then they fell into a contented silence. Rachel eyed the smirking blonde for a moment, enjoying the peaceful feeling those words spread over her and the sensation of her hand running up and down her back before she gathered the courage to ask.

"Quinn, how long have you…?"

"Since St. Jackass transferred to McKinley for you. Or at least that's when I first noticed it," she replied calmly.

She couldn't help going wide-eyed. "That long? I-I never would have known. I mean, you were still so…." She searched for the word.

"Hostile?" Quinn supplied.

"Well, I was going to go with distant."

She smiled sadly. "I couldn't just accept it right away, Rach. It was really hard for me to understand, first because it was against everything I was raised to believe, and then because it was you. I'd been convincing myself for years that you're nothing but a freak, and it was a little scary for me when I let myself think all the things about you I wouldn't before." She paused to eye her. "What?"

Rachel tried to put her smile on dimmer, but she failed miserably. "You called me 'Rach.'"

Quinn kissed her again. "Out of everything I just said, that's the only thing you heard." She smirked.

The diva blushed. "That's not the only thing I heard," she mumbled. "In fact, I _was_ wondering why nothing changed after you learned to accept it. I just chose to focus on a happier portion." She nodded superiorly.

She grinned. "Sure you did." Before she could protest, Quinn went on, "And nothing changed because nothing _could_ change. You were already confused enough with St. Idiot's mood swings and Finn chasing after you. You didn't need any added drama, so I waited."

Rachel smiled fondly, warmth spreading in her middle. "That's so—oh, my God!"

Without giving Quinn any time to react, Rachel shot to her feet and started pacing the room, cursing herself over and over. She was such a bad person. So, so bad.

"Rachel, what is it? What's wrong?" The blonde sounded so confused and alarmed Rachel decided to take pity on her.

"Finn! I-I was going to talk to him about just being friends, like Shelby suggested, but no, instead I had to put it off and put it off and then he had to give me that great present and I tried to hint on that date when I should've just told him and then last night I wanted to talk about it, and instead I decided to give him time to prepare himself because he asked me to and now I've just spent the past I don't know how long kissing you and I completely broke my code of ethics and I _cheated_!" She gasped on the word and sank into her computer chair, gripping her chest above her heart. "Oh, God, I think I'm having my very first chest pain. I'm going to hell."

"Rachel, listen to me," Quinn said, and suddenly she was there on her knees, gripping the brunette's shoulders and keeping her grounded. "_Breathe_. Okay? Breathe for me."

Rachel tried her hardest to focus on Quinn and sucked in a deep breath when she did, only releasing when the blonde coached her to. After they repeated this a few times, Rachel wasn't feeling nearly so lightheaded, though she was still cursing herself. Quinn was stroking her hair soothingly again.

"This is my fault," she said gently.

The brunette was immediately upset. "No, it's—"

"It is. I got too impatient, and I'm sorry," she continued, holding her gaze. "We don't have to do anything else until you talk to Finn, okay?"

Rachel frowned at her. "Are you sure?"

She dipped her chin. "I'll admit I was intending on asking you on a date—" the brunette whimpered "—_but_ it can wait. I can wait."

"You're so sweet," she moaned. "Why can't you be hostile again?"

Quinn smirked. "Sorry. Once you unleash me, it's over."

Rachel couldn't help a smile. And when Quinn returned it, she couldn't resist dipping down for one last, brief kiss. It didn't end up very brief, because as soon as their lips touched they were on fire for each other again. Quinn had her arms wrapped around her neck and before long she was opening her mouth to Rachel's questing tongue, shuddering when the brunette's hands slid down over her back to gather her closer. They were panting again when they broke apart.

"Okay. Starting now, nothing else happens," Rachel murmured, and Quinn nodded.

"Right. Nothing."

The brunette gazed at the gorgeous blonde before her and abruptly decided that being this close to her would not lead to more 'nothing.' Reluctantly, she released Quinn and stood with a sigh.

"Okay…so." She cleared her throat. "Do you want to…watch a movie or something?"

Quinn smiled pityingly as she stood. "Rachel, we both know I should go. If I stay, it'll just hang over our heads and I don't want to put pressure on you. For anything."

"Again, couldn't you be meaner?" she asked, half-teasing.

Now that Rachel had this sweet, affectionate Quinn to herself she couldn't resist her. It had been hard enough when they were just friends, and now that she knew Quinn wanted her, too, and knew how she tasted and how she sounded and felt…. Torture was the only word for it.

The blonde smiled. "I've spent months pretending to be mean to you. I don't think I could do it anymore if I tried."

She sighed. "You realize you are killing me here, right?"

She Dazzled. "Sorry," she said, obviously not in the least bit. "I'll go before I can make it any worse." And she winked.

Rachel shook her head at the blonde and linked their arms to lead her down the stairs, keeping her movements slow to drag out the time before Quinn would have to leave. When they finally arrived at the door, Quinn flipped out her keys, slid on her shoes, and pecked Rachel's cheek—dangerously close to the mouth—before she stepped out the door, reluctantly releasing her hand as she did so.

"Tell Beth her Aunt Rachel says hi," the brunette called when Quinn was at her car.

The blonde Dazzled at her again. "I will. I'll call you tomorrow."

And, with that, she got in the car and Rachel watched her drive away with an ache that could only mean she missed Quinn already. Which was really pathetic, but she decided not to over-think that.

XXXXXX

**A/N:** I realize this chapter is only one scene and therefore pretty short, but I felt like they deserved their own little section before I move on to the next part. :) Hope you enjoyed!


	15. Amends and Advice

**A/N:** So, apparently my Quinn muse is incredibly greedy when it comes to her Rachel time. Thus, I had to put in a scene I had not planned for, and now this chapter is a little bit longer than I originally intended. And it's pretty much pure fluff. I hope you like it anyway. :)

**Amends and Advice**

Rachel received a text from Quinn at 8:46, just before Shelby arrived to pick her up for brunch. Her mom was taking her and her dads out, actually, as a sort of 'thanks for letting me see my daughter and let's catch up' type of meal. Her dads weren't displeased at all that Shelby was back in her life. In fact, they told Rachel that they'd remained willing to do an open adoption throughout the process. It stung a little to think her mom had been that adamant about not seeing her, but then Rachel thought about how Quinn was feeling now. And she felt she mostly understood.

She was waiting in the living room with her dads when she got the text. Daddy was reading the newspaper, Dad had stolen the comics, and she was reading '_Sense and Sensibility_' over again. Her phone vibrated, and then Rachel proceeded to scare the living daylights out of her fathers by breaking the silence with a laugh, because Quinn had written, '_Are your birds chirping?_'

They both stared at her while she typed back, '_Yep! Sun shining, too! Yours?_' Rachel was grinning when she looked up, but it faltered when she saw Dad peering at her over his bifocals and Daddy arching a brow at her. She took a moment to collect her composure.

"Yes?" she asked primly.

They exchanged a look and smirked.

"Nothing, darling," Daddy said, and he went back to reading.

"I take it you had a good time yesterday," Dad commented slyly.

Rachel grinned. "Yes, it was—"

There was another vibration and she abandoned the conversation to see what Quinn had written. She burst into giggles again. '_Yep. Maybe it's an epidemic._'

Things went on this way even after Shelby arrived, though Rachel paused long enough to give her mother a brief hug before she went back to texting. She sat in the back with Daddy while the three adults caught up on what they'd been doing for the last sixteen years and she tried her best to muffle her giggles, so as not to interrupt. Even without the blonde's assurances, Rachel would've been able to tell she was in a good mood just by how many jokes she was making.

They were nearly to the café when Rachel realized she'd been asked a question. The silence was deafening. She cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked uncertainly.

Dad chuckled. "Don't worry, it's not you," he assured Shelby.

"She's been like this since she woke up," Daddy added, winking at his daughter when she frowned at him.

"Like what, exactly?" she demanded.

"Skipping through the daisies," he replied.

"The hills are definitely alive and well," Dad agreed.

Shelby laughed. "I'm glad to hear it. Any particular reason?"

"Oh, she had a date with some girl she likes," he said, grinning.

"It was not a date!" Rachel squawked indignantly.

"You and Quinn finally went out?" Shelby asked, smiling at her in the rearview mirror.

"No! I mean, yes, bu-but it wasn't a date!"

"So should we be concerned about the shopping trip you have planned with Tina on Wednesday?" Daddy asked nonchalantly.

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Tina and I are just friends, and Quinn and I didn't do anything. We went to see the Shaws, then to—"

"Honey, you don't get lips that red watching '_Chicago_'," he cut in, shaking his head. He raised his hands up defensively when Rachel glared at him. "I'm just saying."

Shelby was giggling with Dad up front, and Rachel folded her arms as she put on her best death glare. Daddy was used to it, so he just smiled patiently while she prepared to rant at him.

"All right, so perhaps Quinn and I did _one_ thing, but it was not a date," she said decisively. "It was one friend morally supporting another friend in an extremely difficult situation."

"Sweetheart, just out of curiosity, why was it not a date?" Dad asked, exchanging a glance with a still-amused Shelby.

She sighed. "Because. If I went on a date with Quinn, then I cheated on Finn, which would be simply appalling on my part." Daddy snickered and she frowned at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He grinned and muttered, "Quinn, Finn."

"No wonder they didn't work out," Dad said, and they both started chuckling.

"You still haven't talked to Finn?" Shelby asked, and Rachel winced at the disapproving note in her voice.

She squirmed in her seat. "No, but I'm going to. I'm going to text him later to see if I can go over to his house tomorrow. He has church this morning and then he always goes to his uncle's house with his mom for dinner, so it'll have to wait until then," she said morosely.

"And Quinn is all right with this?" Dad inquired curiously. She bobbed her head in the affirmative, since she was busy answering another text, and he grinned. "I really like that girl."

They pulled into the parking lot then, and on their way inside, Shelby linked arms with her daughter while the two men went ahead to find them a table. It was one of the only breakfast places in town, so it was packed with people already, and most of the churches hadn't even finished their services yet.

"So, what do you plan on saying to him?" Shelby asked.

Rachel frowned, biting her lip. "Um…I-I don't know, exactly. I guess I've been so anxious about actually telling him that I didn't think about the part where I have to speak."

Her mother smiled widely. "I know the feeling."

"I think he knows what's coming, though," she said, a little uncertainly. "After the party on Friday, he asked if we could put off talking about what we need to talk about. So he might be expecting it and it won't be that hard."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up, hon," she replied gently. "I don't know Finn very well, but based off what I've seen and what you've told me, he cares about you quite a lot. It probably won't be all that easy."

"What won't?" Dad asked as he pulled out the chair for Rachel.

Daddy did the same for Shelby on the other side.

"Breaking up with Finn," Rachel said, sighing. She brightened when she got another text.

"Breakups are never easy," Daddy said absently as he perused the menu.

"My advice, if you want it, is to be as firm as possible," Shelby instructed, "but not to the point of meanness."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "How do you strike _that_ balance?"

"Well…. That's a good question," she said, exchanging a smile with Daddy.

Dad intercepted the question. "What your mother is trying to say is that you need to make it as clear as possible to him that the relationship is over without destroying your chances for friendship. We know how much you care about Finn, so being kind enough won't be your problem."

"Being firm enough will," Daddy agreed. "We all know you can be brutally honest when you need to be, but you tend to panic when you know you're about to hurt someone. In this case, being anything less than honest will only hurt both of you."

Rachel hardly noticed the buzzing of her phone on the table this time. She was too engrossed.

"How?" she asked curiously, looking between the three of them in fascination.

"Well, if you let him think there's even the slightest possibility that you might change your mind, he probably won't give up on that," Shelby answered, wincing. "Believe me. I know."

She nodded emphatically, internalizing the information. That made sense. If she told the absolute truth—which was simply that she wanted to be friends—then there was no room for misinterpretation and, even though he might not want to be friends again right away, he would probably eventually come around. That was just the way Finn was. After all, he and Noah were practically back to normal. And she and Quinn would be free to have a relationship without worrying about—

"What should I say about Quinn?" she asked suddenly.

All four of them—the waiter included—jumped, and she bit her lip sheepishly. Daddy held up a finger to signify that he would answer that in a moment, and they all placed their orders. The waiter shot her another odd look before heading off, and then Daddy cleared his throat.

"I would involve Quinn as little as possible," he said matter-of-factly.

Rachel gaped. That was the last thing she'd expected to hear. "Why?"

"Because if you mention her too much, he may believe you're only leaving him because of her. That not only leaves a window of opportunity open for him to attempt to win you back, but it also gives him someone to blame. And from what you've told us of their history, I doubt he'd hesitate to target her."

She nodded immediately, and he smiled. Quinn could handle herself—she'd proved that when she broke Jesse's nose—but Rachel still felt a protective urge rise up at the thought of Finn taking their breakup out on her. The brunette wouldn't put up with that, and she made a mental note not to mention Quinn when she broke the news to him.

Rachel's phone beeped, and she lunged for it when she realized she'd neglected to reply to Quinn. But there was apparently no need, because the message said, '_Mercedes is here. I'll text when done._'

XXXXXX

If there was one thing Quinn was learning, it was that it was really, extremely difficult to text while feeding a baby. But she was desperate—for any kind of contact with Rachel—so she managed it. Although there were occasionally spills and mistypes and once the phone fell on the floor, followed by the bottle of milk, Quinn felt accomplished. Though she was still very relieved when the baby decided she was full.

Then it was back to the cradle while Quinn simultaneously texted, rocked it, and sang softly. The baby really enjoyed singing, which wasn't a huge surprise to her mother, since she'd spent most of the time she was pregnant in glee or singing a song from glee. During performances, the baby had always been extremely active with her feet. The only other time she was more so was when Quinn talked to her, or Rachel talked. Puck also got his fair share of kicking, though she'd never told him.

Quinn was pretty sure the baby would've been kicking like crazy if she were still in her belly. She was on a high of Rachel Berry, and she knew if her dad still lived there he'd have been doing a drug test, simply because she was _that_ bouncy. It was tempered a bit by the knowledge that she wouldn't be able to see Rachel again until she talked to Finn, but the brunette seemed just as eager to get that over with as the blonde was. So she didn't let it get her down too much.

All the same, she couldn't stop herself from missing Rachel, even though she reminded herself over and over that it was for the best. If they saw each other before the talk with Finn, it would be too much pressure on both of them. Quinn only had so much self-control when it came to Rachel, and she'd used up most of it during the last few months. And Rachel didn't need more cheating weighing on her conscience. As far as she was concerned, she was still with Finn. Even if certain blondes disagreed with that assessment.

Quinn was in the midst of typing a reply to Rachel when the doorbell rang, which was odd, since Brittany and Santana weren't visiting until later in the day. Puck was swinging by at lunch, so she supposed it could've been him, but it was still a bit early. She peeked out the window first and her stomach clenched.

Mercedes was waiting at the door, rocking on her heels like she did when she was nervous. In hindsight, Quinn realized she may have overreacted on Friday. In their own (really messed up) way, Kurt and Mercedes _were_ showing that they genuinely cared about Rachel. Still, everything Quinn had said was true, and it hurt more than she cared to admit that Mercedes still didn't trust her after all this time. She couldn't help lashing out when her feelings were hurt—it was like a reflex.

Quinn heaved a sigh and typed in a new message to Rachel before she slid her phone in her pocket. Then she took a bracing breath and stepped to the door, cracking it open just as Mercedes was reaching to knock. She looked surprised when the blonde swung the door open and leaned in the frame, arching a brow at her.

"Quinn, I know you're mad at me," Mercedes said immediately.

That was something Quinn liked about her. She didn't beat around the bush. Still, she wanted to hear this before she gave any indications of forgiveness, so she simply waited.

"But I just came to say that I'm really sorry for assuming things about you like I did. I know I should've talked to you, at the very least, and I should've trusted you. I was basing my assumptions on how you used to be, and I know you aren't that girl anymore. So I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me," she said sincerely.

When the blonde only considered her, Mercedes nodded sadly and turned to go, having said her piece.

"So does this mean you don't think I'm going to crush Rachel's heart into a million pieces anymore?" Quinn called, and smirked when Mercedes turned.

She grinned and shook her head. "You are such a brat. Making me think you were gonna hate me forever." But she was coming back up the walk.

"What can I say? I like making people sweat a little," she replied, winking.

"So I'm forgiven?" she asked, and Quinn swung the screen door open for her.

"Yes, but only if you tell me what led to you hugging her that night," she said curiously. "You surprised me with that one."

They eased onto the couch together and Quinn went back to rocking the cradle idly.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said about how we treat her, and I realized you're right," Mercedes said, nodding for emphasis. "We take Rachel for granted, and it's time we changed that."

Quinn only smiled.

"Now, you _have_ to tell me how you ended up liking her," she said excitedly, even bouncing a little. "I've been dying to know ever since I got over the shock."

The blonde laughed. "Well, I don't know. I…I first noticed it after St. Bieber transferred to McKinley, I guess. All I wanted to do is chain him down to the piano and pluck every single one of his hairs out."

"Ouch," she commented. "Don't tell Kurt that. He'll have nightmares about you for weeks."

She grinned. "I won't. But…that was a little bit of a hint. And then…I just started noticing these things about her. Really insignificant details, like how she mouths the words when she reads."

Mercedes smiled. "That _is_ pretty cute."

"Yeah." She beamed, and the other girl giggled.

"You smitten kitten," she teased.

They sat comfortably for a moment until Mercedes perked up again.

"Hey, is that why you decided to come along to spy on Vocal Adrenaline?" she asked.

"When?"

"You know, that time when it was just you, me, and Rachel, and then we found out Ms. Corcoran's her mom and—"

"Oh, right. Yeah, that was sort of my subtle attempt at getting closer to her. It didn't work out so well."

She frowned, puzzled. "It didn't?"

"She didn't even notice," she pointed out. "If you recall, her exact words when I said I'd come were 'Mercedes, do you think we should wear darker clothes?'"

"Oh, yeah. That was pretty funny." She grinned. "But I think it might've put her off that you kept calling her 'Man Hands.'"

"I _said_ subtle attempt."

"Well, you might want to try being less subtle from now on." Mercedes winked. "Rachel doesn't really get the little hints."

"Yeah. Well, hopefully she gets it now that we made out," Quinn said casually, grinning when the other girl practically screeched.

"You are so evil! Why didn't you tell me?" she exclaimed.

The baby stirred, so Quinn pulled her out of the cradle to sooth her as she answered.

"I honestly thought you'd be a little more freaked out about the whole thing."

"Well, I kind of was at first. But you know the gay thing doesn't bother me, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized how happy you both were on Friday. And I haven't seen that in a long time."

"You're kind of amazing," she said, rocking. The baby's feet wiggled, but she was fast asleep.

"I know." Mercedes grinned, and the blonde chuckled. "So, come on, girl. I want some details here."

Quinn shook her head and took a breath, relaxing back into Mercedes's company as she spilled all.

XXXXXX

Rachel called Quinn that evening. She hadn't been able to resist; as fun as the texting was, she needed to hear her voice, and she really wanted to see her. Which probably wasn't the best idea, since Rachel wasn't very good at controlling her impulses. And when she knew they wouldn't be denied, but rather welcomed, it was even harder.

Still, she couldn't stop herself from telling Quinn, "I miss you."

She could hear the lazy grin in the blonde's voice when she replied, "I miss you, too. I could come over, if you wanted." She yawned.

"Don't you have to take care of Beth?"

Mrs. Fabray wasn't supposed to be back until the next morning, which kind of limited when and where Quinn could go. Although apparently the trip to the mall with Santana and Brittany had been pretty fun, particularly when a cashier jokingly asked if Beth was Santana's.

"Puck and his mom insisted on giving me a night off again," Quinn replied, only half-irritably. "It's kind of funny how quickly the woman changed her mind once she met her."

"Well, who could resist her? She's _your_ baby," Rachel said proudly, smiling.

"Mm, thanks, Berry," she teased sleepily.

"Should I let you go?"

There was a soft chuckle in her ear then. "Why?"

"You sound exhausted."

"It's been a long day," she said reassuringly. "But I can still come over."

"I don't think I want you driving when you're this tired," she said concernedly. "Besides, we'll see each other soon, right? Tina sent me a message about the county fair thing, and it sounds like we're going to do it on Thursday."

Quinn scoffed. "Thursday."

"You're right, that is too long," Rachel said decisively.

She flopped over and shoved her pillow out of the way so she could see the clock. It wasn't _too_ awful late, and it wouldn't hurt to have a short visit. Even if there wouldn't be a baby there to stop her from getting pervy feelings.

"You still there?" Quinn asked uncertainly.

"Yes. I was just thinking maybe I could come over there," she offered tentatively.

She yawned again. "Okay. I'll unlock the front door in case I fall asleep," she said mischievously.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Quinn Fabray, if you're asleep when I get there—"

"I guess you'll just have to come up with a creative way to wake me up," the blonde purred, and she added a short, "Drive safe!" before she hung up.

Rachel shook her head, smiling wryly at the phone as she flipped it shut. _Minx_.

Her dads let her borrow the car without question, though they did exchange another of those knowing smiles that were driving her nuts. She was eager to see Quinn, though, so she shoved aside the urge to glare in favor of hopping out to the garage and getting to the blonde as quickly as possible. The porch lights were on when she arrived, but she made sure to knock before she opened the door, still intent on maintaining her manners.

Rachel almost burst into laughter when she saw that Quinn had, in fact, dozed off while waiting for her on the couch, wrapped up in an off-white throw. The brunette toed off her shoes and shut the door carefully before heading over to the gorgeous girl curled up against the arm of the couch. She eased down close to her side, wondering briefly if Quinn was faking her out. She cast that idea aside shortly and considered her options.

The most obvious tactic would be to kiss her awake, but Rachel couldn't do that. Even if she desperately wanted to, they still shouldn't do anything until she had that talk with Finn. She wished it were Monday afternoon. She could probably also steal the throw and wait until Quinn woke up from the cold, but the brunette just didn't have it in her to be that vicious. Frankly, she didn't want to wake her up at all. She looked so adorable and serene, and Rachel didn't want to disturb that.

Cautiously, the brunette reached up to stroke the soft blonde curls, letting her fingers sift through the ends with each pass. Fortunately, Quinn didn't wake, and Rachel allowed her hand to smooth down the soft skin of her cheek, smiling at the feeling. She caressed down the blonde's jaw to her chin, keeping each touch soothing and gentle, and she froze when Quinn whimpered in her sleep. Luckily, she settled down a moment later.

Rachel considered stopping, but the moment she did, her hand rebelled and then she was sweeping down Quinn's neck to the line of her shirt. She massaged the protruding point of her collarbone and paused there, aching to dip down lower. She forced her mind and her hand away from that trail, instead rubbing Quinn's shoulder with the intent of traveling down her arm to intertwine their fingers.

But before she got that far, the blonde grunted with what sounded like disappointment and met Rachel's gaze. The brunette beamed at her, though she carefully removed her hand from Quinn's person.

"Hi," she said softly. She didn't know why, but it felt like the appropriate time to whisper.

"Hi," Quinn replied, matching her volume. She frowned at Rachel's retreating hand. "Where do you think you're going? Get over here."

And she lifted the throw and shifted to let one leg hang off the edge of the cushion, gesturing for Rachel to join her. When the brunette hesitated, she sighed.

"Cuddling isn't cheating," she said pointedly.

Rachel had to disagree with that. When cuddling was with someone that made you feel 'the feelings' it was cheating a little bit. But who could refuse Quinn Fabray anything? Rachel Berry certainly couldn't, she discovered, since she ducked under her arm and curled into her warmth, smiling with pleasure at the sensation. Quinn Dazzled at her and tucked her under the throw, making sure not a bit of her below the shoulders was uncovered, and then she kissed her temple and sighed contentedly.

"So. How are you?" the blonde asked, and Rachel felt her start fiddling with the ends of her hair.

She giggled. "Better now. But I have a question."

"Ask away."

Rachel pulled a serious face. "It's about dating." Quinn arched a brow, but she nodded for her to go on. "Let's just say…hypothetically, I got asked out by this really gorgeous girl and we spent the entire day together, and she even got really mad when these two gay guys started talking to me in the diner we went to—"

Quinn looked startled. "They were gay?"

The brunette laughed. "How many straight teenage boys do you know who enjoy show tunes?"

"Oh." She frowned. "Stereotypes like that are still ridiculous. I'm not going to become a professional wrestler and chop off all my hair just because I happen to have a thing for short brunettes."

Rachel might've glared at her for the short comment if she hadn't been busy focusing on the rest of it. Quinn was still playing with her hair, but when she noticed the brunette staring, she entwined their fingers with her free hand and asked softly, "What?"

"It's just…you've really accepted all this, haven't you?" she prompted, a little in awe.

Quinn smiled and kissed her forehead again. "I've had some time. Now, you were saying…."

She shook herself. "Oh, right. Well, after that, let's say we went back to my house, and we went up to my room and ended up making out." She shot a little grin at the smirking blonde. "Am I grossing you out yet?"

"Shockingly, I'm finding this story much more enjoyable than your last hypothetical dating situation," she said wryly. "So, what was your question?"

Rachel pretended to mull that over, biting her lip, and then said playfully, "I don't actually know. Any excuse to tell that story, I guess."

She grinned when Quinn burst out laughing and leaned into her as she rode out the waves of her giggles. Rachel felt her shake her head and sigh, and then Quinn started kissing her cheek. Repeatedly. The brunette closed her eyes to better feel the pink lips sweeping over her skin and pressing lightly here and there. The temperature in the room started rising, though, and she was burning to turn her head and accept a kiss on the lips. She sighed angrily when Finn popped into her head.

"Quinn…" she murmured.

The blonde was apparently reading her mind, because she whispered, "Cheek kisses are innocent," without lifting her lips away, and kept going, angling down toward her jaw.

"Not the way you're doing it," Rachel pointed out, but she didn't pull away and she couldn't repress a smile.

Being around Quinn was enough to make Rachel happy these days, but seeing this cutely affectionate side of her was simply blissful. And the brunette was downright addicted to her lips. She hadn't been thinking about it at the time—she'd been too wrapped up in everything Quinn, even when the logical part of her brain was arguing for control—but later, after the blonde left her house, she'd realized that she had had no idea what arousal meant before Quinn kissed her.

Not to say that Finn, Noah, and Jesse hadn't all been pleasant. Rachel liked making out with them well enough. Finn, while a little inexperienced and therefore sloppy, had had soft lips and he was very respectful. Noah was like a professional, and the times he was a little rough were kind of exciting. Jesse was very experienced as well, if a little overenthusiastic. And it had all been very nice.

But after Quinn, she realized something. Kisses should never be something as lackluster as 'nice.' They should always inspire fire, the way Quinn was doing just kissing along her jaw, making Rachel ache in a way Finn never had. She cursed herself mentally, wishing she hadn't been such a coward these past two weeks, and that she could just forget about him now. But her conscience wouldn't let her be, and as Quinn made her way up toward her ear, Rachel sighed.

"I'm talking to Finn tomorrow," she said, and she was surprised to find that her voice still had its strength.

Quinn froze for so long it startled the brunette when she started to move, pulling back to meet her eyes.

"You are?" she prompted, and Rachel wondered if her eyes were as dark as Quinn's.

She nodded. "I texted him after brunch, and he said it would be okay if I came over. It'll have to be the afternoon—I have a ballet class in the morning—but yes. Tomorrow."

The blonde sighed, and Rachel wasn't sure whether it was in relief or frustration, because she sank back against the arm of the couch then. The brunette squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Quinn asked abruptly, eyes intent on her.

She smiled gratefully. "I do, but I think Finn would feel like we're ganging up on him. It'll be better if it comes from me alone. That way he can't blame you for anything."

She grunted. "And he probably wouldn't appreciate what I have to say."

Rachel flashed a grin and asked curiously, "What's that?"

"She's mine, get over it," she replied, eyes sparkling with mirth.

The brunette's breath caught in her throat, and she gazed at Quinn in wonder. The blonde stroked her hair gently when she caught the look on her face, asking concernedly, "What's wrong?"

"Is that how you think of me?" Rachel asked, and she hadn't meant to whisper, but that's how it came out. "Yours?"

The fingers fiddling with her hair paused, and Quinn inquired cautiously, "Does that bother you?"

She shook her head immediately. It didn't bother her in the least bit. In fact, it made that bubbling of happiness stir up in her center, the way it had when she knew Quinn had been about to kiss her. She'd never had anyone stake their claim on her that way before. It was thrilling and remarkable and euphoric and she didn't know whether to laugh, cry, sing, or just kiss Quinn. She almost kicked herself when she realized she still couldn't do that.

So instead she murmured, "No, it doesn't bother me," and carefully rested her head against Quinn's shoulder. Rachel smiled contentedly when the blonde gathered her closer before replacing her hand around Rachel's, renewing her soothing strokes through the brunette locks, and pressing another kiss to her forehead. And for once, Rachel felt herself start to totally relax, in the safety of Quinn's arms.

XXXXXX

Rachel took a deep, steadying breath. Her dads let her borrow the car again so she could drive to her ballet class, then to lunch with Mercedes—she'd been so surprised when she received a message from her she'd almost dropped the phone—and, finally, to Finn's house to have the talk. She reviewed what Shelby and her dads had told her again. She'd actually written down what she could remember, so she read over it about ten times. It didn't stop the butterflies in her stomach.

She decided she needed to hear Quinn's voice, and so she dialed her up anxiously as she peered at the house. She hoped Kurt wasn't home. She didn't need the pressure of wondering if he would be sitting outside the door with his ear pressed to it. Not that she didn't trust Kurt, but he was a pathological gossipmonger. And he would be absolutely giddy with the prospect of her and Finn breaking up.

"Hey, how was class?" Quinn asked cheerfully, and Rachel felt a smidgeon of the tension leave her shoulders.

Her voice was still clipped when she replied, "Good. How are you?"

There was a brief pause. "Are you at his house?"

Rachel nodded, and it took her a minute to realize Quinn couldn't see her. "Yeah."

"Deep breaths, all right? You'll be fine," she said soothingly. "Just keep reminding yourself that this is for him, too."

She sighed shakily. "Yeah. Can…can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Can you be there when I get home?" She winced. "I-I know you probably want to spend some time with Beth since you haven't seen her at all practically this whole weekend, and—"

"Beth will understand. I'll be there, I promise," Quinn said firmly, and Rachel blinked in stunned surprise at the sound of Beth's name coming from the blonde's lips. She shook herself into recovering.

"Thank you," she said softly. She took another deep breath. "Okay. I'm gonna go do it now."

"I'll see you after," she said reassuringly.

"Bye."

Rachel hung up reluctantly and forced herself out of the car. Quinn had calmed her down; at least she didn't feel like throwing up anymore. She reminded herself to keep taking deep breaths as she went up the walk and stepped up the stairs and finally reached the door. She clicked the little yellow button and listened to the bell, and she thanked her (sort of) lucky stars, because Finn opened it.

"Hey," he said, smiling his dopey smile.

Rachel licked her lips nervously. "We need to talk."


	16. Breakups and Breakthroughs

**Breakups and Breakthroughs**

Finn knew—had known since Friday, when Rachel sat next to Tina instead of him—that something was up. And he knew that that 'something' definitely had everything to do with Quinn. It was hard for him to believe at first, because Quinn had always been so cruel to Rachel, and that confirmed his conviction that his girlfriend would never feel anything for his ex-girlfriend besides maybe a lukewarm liking that came from working together in glee.

But the thing was, Rachel wasn't shifting away from Quinn on Friday. She was shifting away from _him_. Like _he_ was the one who'd tormented her for years and never acknowledged her existence except when it suited his purposes. It was bizarre how life worked that way.

Still, Finn didn't begrudge Rachel for falling under Quinn's spell. Quinn was charming when she wanted to be, and as she'd told him on the last day of school, she always got what she wanted. One way or another. And so, when Rachel arrived on his doorstep telling him they needed to talk, Finn wasn't surprised. He was prepared. Because even if Rachel ended things with him, he still loved her, and he wasn't going to let Quinn crush her.

He invited her inside and they went up to his room, where they could have some privacy, and now Rachel was sitting awkwardly at his desk, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked genially, though he already knew.

It was best to let Rachel get it all out there first, and then he could present his case.

"Well…." She cleared her throat. She looked as though she'd practiced this, which didn't surprise him in the least. "Finn, you know that I care about you deeply." He nodded. "You are one of my best friends, and I will always care for you. But…that's as far as my feelings go."

Rachel slowly met his gaze and Finn felt his stomach clench when he saw the resolve in her eyes.

"I've been trying to convince myself for the past couple weeks that I can feel more for you again, but I don't think I can. You're my friend now, and it's not fair for me to drag you along making you believe I feel more. You deserve real happiness, Finn, with someone who can love you completely, the way you should be loved." She took a deep, bracing breath. "I hope you still want to be my friend, Finn, but…I don't think we should be together anymore."

Finn swallowed down the lump in his throat. He'd known it was coming; that didn't make it hurt less. He avoided her eyes while he gathered himself, trying to remember what he was going to say to her on the important topic—Quinn. If it weren't for her, Rachel wouldn't be doing this, he reminded himself over and over, clenching his fists together.

Rachel was waiting for him to say something, biting her lip as though she wanted to say more. Finn took a cleansing breath.

"And Quinn?" he asked, and his voice sounded thick even to his ears.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he chuckled.

"Come on, Rach. I know people think I'm dumb, but I'm not blind," he said, and she ducked her head to avoid his gaze. He swallowed. "Do you have feelings for her?"

"What's between me and Quinn isn't relevant to this conversation," she replied, and if he wasn't mistaken, there was a bit of a bite to her voice. "This is about you and me."

Finn nodded, trying not to flinch. "I know. I just don't want to see you get hurt." She opened her mouth to speak, so he hurried on. "I mean, don't you think it's a little suspicious that she just suddenly decided she likes you after months of treating you like dirt?"

Rachel frowned. "Well, she didn't—"

"I'm sure she has some excuse, right?" He shook his head. "You can't trust her, Rachel. She lies better than…than…."

"Finn, I know she hurt you," she interjected while he tried to think of an example. "But she was scared. Really, if you were in her position, who would you have chosen to father your baby? The respectful, honest, and loyal captain of the football team? Or Noah?"

His jaw clenched tight. "It's not about what Quinn did to me. I'm worried about you," he said earnestly. She went to speak again and he cut in, "No, listen. I mean…just think of all the things she's done to you. Do you really think she could honestly feel that way about you? After calling you 'Man Hands' or 'Treasure Trail' all the time, or—" Rachel flinched "—posting all those comments on your MySpace videos, or…or…oh, the Glist! You remember that? She gave you a negative five."

She swallowed hard and trained her gaze on his poster of Brett Favre on the far wall. He hated seeing her walls go up like that, defending herself from more hurt, but he had to get through to her, so he pressed on.

"Does that sound like someone you can trust?" Finn asked gently. She didn't answer. "Like someone who won't put her popularity before you? Look, all I'm saying is…be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt, and I don't think Quinn is a person you can trust not to do that."

The only sound in the room for several moments was his clock quietly ticking off the seconds. Finn wished she would look at him, so he could see if he'd made an impression, but Rachel didn't budge. He shifted and his mattress squeaked, and then Rachel took a shaky breath.

She still wouldn't meet his eyes when she whispered, almost inaudibly, "I have to go."

He rose abruptly when she did, and he caught her elbow before she grabbed the doorknob. Her eyes flicked to his and then down to the floor, and he sighed.

"I just want to say…I'll respect your decision. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me," Finn said firmly.

Rachel just nodded, almost imperceptibly, and gently tugged her arm away before she walked out. He sighed heavily and sank back onto his bed, hoping some part of what he said had gotten through.

XXXXXX

Quinn had guilt. Not a lot—just a tiny sliver—but it was there. After all, letting Rachel come over and nearly molesting her on her couch hadn't exactly been sticking to her decision to respect the brunette's code of ethics. But it wasn't all her fault. Rachel had been the one to suggest coming over, and Quinn couldn't help it if her inhibitions were lowered when she was sleepy and her nose was being assailed with the scent of Rachel's perfume.

Most of her remaining guilt was assuaged when Rachel arrived home looking somber. The dad Quinn hadn't met was home when she arrived, and he let her in before he had to take off for work, so she was waiting on Rachel's couch when she got home. Her stomach twisted when the brunette only gazed at her silently, but she forced herself off the cushion and wrapped her in a warm hug, which Rachel slowly returned, easing her sudden fear.

"How did he take it?" Quinn forced herself to ask, keeping her encircled in her arms.

Rachel sighed against her shoulder. "I…fine, I guess."

She gradually removed herself from the blonde and paced across the room. Quinn could only watch, brow furrowing as her gut's activities heightened again.

"He accepted what I had to say, at least," she continued quietly. "More easily than I was expecting him to."

The blonde hesitantly ventured closer. "And…how do you feel about it?"

She met her eyes sharply. "I'm glad. I'm glad it's over with."

Quinn swallowed. She really didn't want to ask, but she knew if she didn't she'd regret it. So she sighed and asked cautiously, "Then what's wrong?"

Rachel bit her lip until it was white, making Quinn's stomach lurch some more, but she stood her ground and waited for the brunette to get it out. When she finally did, her voice cracked and the blonde's guilt completely went away.

"I don't think I can do this."

Quinn's jaw clenched until it started to hurt, and she felt her gaze steel—saw Rachel flinch in reaction to it.

"What did he say?" she asked sharply.

Because that was absolutely the only explanation for Rachel to change her mind. Finn had to have said _something_ to her to make her think this wasn't right. She wanted to hunt him down and strangle him, but first she needed to deal with this. She needed to ease Rachel's doubts and set things right again.

The brunette sighed, folding her arms. "He said a lot, but the basis of it was that I can't trust you and you're going to end up hurting me. He mentioned how you used to treat me and—"

She kept talking, but Quinn didn't hear a word. She was too angry and desperate and she couldn't stop herself from blurting, "Rach, you know he was just trying to make you doubt this because he didn't want to lose you and—"

Rachel spoke louder, over top of her, and met her eyes when she said, "And I didn't believe a word of it."

The blonde could breathe again. Her anger cooled and her stomach started to unclench, as well as her fists—which she hadn't known she'd been doing. In place of the anger came confusion, and she tilted her head and furrowed her brow at the brunette, who waited patiently for her to absorb it. She looked so vulnerable right now Quinn couldn't doubt her.

"You…?" She swallowed, licking her dry lips.

"I trust you, Quinn," Rachel said, so softly she almost didn't hear it.

Quinn smiled. She couldn't help herself. For the first time since she held her last night, she felt content and calm. Her legs shifted her involuntarily closer, and her heart sang in triumph when the brunette didn't move away.

"You have…_no_ idea how good it feels to hear you say that," she murmured, and Rachel offered her the first smile she had since last night.

It faded quickly, though, and then she said, "But he did get me thinking."

The good feeling faded, too, and Quinn sighed, setting her jaw again when Rachel put distance between them once more. But she felt more confident this time. If Rachel trusted her, then she could make her see that whatever doubts she was having were irrational, that they could move past whatever it was that made her think she couldn't do this anymore.

"About what?" she asked flatly, scowling as she turned to face her again.

"Everything. Like your mom. The family you were brought up in," Rachel replied, and Quinn could tell she was going into lecture mode. "This won't be easy for her to accept, and what if she kicks you out again? I couldn't stand to be the cause of breaking up your family, especially when she just welcomed you back into her life and things seemed to be going so well between you and—"

"Rachel, she knows," she said hastily, and the brunette stared.

"She does?"

She dipped her head. "I told her the day I had the baby. And it's not exactly easy on her, but she's not going to ruin our family over it. Besides, she likes you."

Rachel fought a smile, and she repeated, "She does?" Only a little more tearfully this time.

The blonde smirked. "In her words, you're delightfully chipper, which is good, because I'm not."

The brunette struggled with that, looking like she could either burst into tears or a grin at any moment. Quinn waited, amused but knowing there was more coming. Her mother's feelings on the subject couldn't possibly be the only thing that was troubling Rachel. She wouldn't still look so somber if that was the case.

"That's not the only thing," she ventured, swallowing. Quinn just nodded for her to go on. "I saw how devastated you were when you were kicked off the Cheerios. If you're planning on going back to them, there's no way Ms. Sylvester will accept you if you're dating me. She won't want to project that image of her squad—you know that better than anyone since that was the entire rationale for her decision to kick you off when you got pregnant; the only reason Santana and Brittany get away with their relationship is because they sleep with everyone, not just each other, _and_ they're already popular, so everyone just ignores it.

"You've become invisible, Quinn, and I know that kills you. The Glist wasn't just something you did when you were bored, after all, and it's going to take work for you to become popular again. Dating a girl at all would make it difficult; add me to the mix and all you're going to get is more downward mobility. Even if we hide our relationship—"

She stiffened. "Rachel—"

"—until you regain your popularity, you won't be able to escape it. And I know you may think right now that you don't care, but your perspective might change when we go back to school. You'll be around peers again, and your happiness will depend on your social standing, which depends on what people think of you, and as much as I want to be with you, I'd rather not spend an entire summer with you only to have my hopes dashed when we return to school."

"Rach—"

"And Finn may not have come out and said it, but he has before, and I can even admit it to myself that I'm a difficult person to have a relationship with. Beyond the being a loser who brings a slushie emergency kit to school every day, I'm often abrasive, controlling, and bossy, as well as occasionally conceited when I'm focusing on my ambition. I'm also extremely high maintenance and therefore not easy to please, which—"

"Rach—"

"—can be exceedingly frustrating, particularly for someone who is used to getting their way, as you are. And I think everyone in Lima knows that I want things too much—always more than I should—and I can come on rather strongly because of that, and with how much I want you, I won't be surprised if I end up attacking you with date calendars and matching necklaces within a week—"

"_Rach_—"

"—and I'll scare you off and you'll leave me, just like Finn, and Jesse, and my mom did and I just can't face another heartbreak down the road, especially when it's bound to be—"

Quinn was getting frustrated. She had always had a very limited supply of patience, and as much as she adored it when Rachel rambled, she did not find this particular rant very enjoyable. Mostly since she couldn't get a word in edgewise to defend against the onslaught of reasons she was going to leave Rachel as soon as they started dating. And she really didn't want to yell, but she couldn't get the brunette's attention. So, reluctantly, she reached in to find her inner head cheerleader, gathered all the breath she could, and barked, "_Shut it, Berry_!"

Which definitely got Rachel's attention. She froze, a half-startled and half-wounded expression on her face as she gaped at Quinn, who sighed and gestured to the couch.

"Sit," she ordered, and the brunette was just lucky the couch was right behind her, because she dropped like there was lead in her rump.

Quinn heaved another sigh, relieved at the silence, however tense it was. She rubbed her forehead as she made her way over to Rachel, who watched her with wide eyes. There was so much to refute, and the blonde had no idea where to start, so first she simply sat next to the brunette and tried to gather her jumbled thoughts. Thankfully, Rachel took the hint and didn't make a peep, except to breathe.

"I'm not good at this," Quinn said at length. "This…expressing my emotions…thing." The brunette nodded mutely. "So if this comes out completely wrong, you'll have to bear with me." She sighed again and turned, taking Rachel's hands in hers. "First of all, as far as Coach Sylvester goes…I really don't give a damn what the woman thinks of me. And I was actually planning on discussing my return to the Cheerios with you, because I know how uncomfortable it could be for you."

Rachel opened her mouth at that, but the blonde hurriedly put a finger to pink lips.

"Wait. Just…I'll tell you when I'm done." And when she nodded reluctantly, Quinn sighed and lowered her hand again. "I know you've been hurt a lot," she continued slowly, "and that people have left you and you've blamed yourself. But Rachel, I…I've known you for years. I know how quirky you are and how you can sometimes be selfish, but I've seen you be just as giving. Do you know anyone else on this planet who would voluntarily offer the person who's bullied them for years the opportunity to beat them up because they happened to do _one_ hurtful thing?"

The brunette smiled sheepishly and lowered her gaze to their hands.

"I don't. The fact is, none of that stuff really bothers me anymore. I _like_ how high maintenance you are, because it means I get to fix it and calm you down. I admire you for not being afraid to show how you feel, because it terrifies me. And the ambition thing…well, I just think you know yourself better than anyone I've ever met, and that scares other people, because they don't know themselves, let alone what they want to do with their lives.

"And as far as high school's stupid social hierarchy, what exactly do you think I learned in glee? To care _more_ about what people think? The Glist was just me being an idiot and simultaneously trying to make myself feel better and prove that I didn't have feelings for you. I don't care what they think anymore. And my happiness only depends on the people I do care about, including you."

Anything else Quinn might've said was cut off, because Rachel lurched forward and kissed her for all she was worth. The blonde accepted her happily—frankly, she was starting to get embarrassed, which had the potential to lead to a lot of word-vomit—kissing her back and wrapping her in her arms again. It was a little wet, because the brunette had apparently been near tears, which were now flowing down her cheeks unchecked.

Quinn immediately reached to brush them away while she soaked in the contented feeling that spread through her at the sensation of Rachel's lips on hers. She thought to deepen the kiss, but the brunette pulled away as she did, wiping her cheeks furiously and sniffling, though she was smiling at her now.

"Where have you been hiding this sweet person?" she asked, voice cracking.

The blonde smiled. "Well, I haven't been hiding her, so much as she didn't exist before some gleek I know turned me soft." She shuddered, feigning repulsion.

That earned her a chuckle. "So. What now?"

Quinn pretended to consider that. "Well, first thing's first. I'm going to ask if you've changed your mind and think you can do this."

She nodded slowly, smiling. "Yeah."

"Then I'm going to ask you on a date, and I'm a little nervous about it."

"Oh. Well, I don't know if it helps or not, but I'm going to agree to it," Rachel replied eagerly.

"Yes, I feel better. After that, you're probably going to want to know where and when," she added thoughtfully.

"And if we're meeting there," she agreed.

"Of course, and I'm going to tell you it's at Breadsticks at seven tomorrow night, and that I'm picking you up."

"I'd tell you it sounds perfect, but I don't want to seem over-eager."

Quinn smirked. "And then I might possibly think about kissing you, but since I'm a complete and total tease, I'll probably decide to wait until tomorrow night."

Rachel pouted. "I knew that celibacy club motto would come back to haunt me someday."

The smirk grew. "At least I don't have the skirt."

"Yet," she grumbled.

The blonde chuckled and then swooped in to steal a kiss, which Rachel pulled back from in short order, though she didn't go very far.

"I thought you were deciding to wait," she breathed, smiling.

"I'm not a very patient person," Quinn replied, and then she shut her up by occupying her mouth and tongue for a good, long time.

XXXXXX

**A/N:** Another short and fluffy one, I know, but I want to focus on the last chapter of 'Playing Games.' Plus, this was a pretty good stopping point, don't ya think? ;)


	17. Firsts and the Fair

**Notice:** I am going on vacation from tomorrow until next Friday and won't have access to a computer until I get back. This will, therefore, be my last update until then. I'm gonna miss you guys!

**Firsts and the Fair**

Rachel liked argyle. It was a simple truth that confused many people. The old-fashioned look suited her, and it didn't bother her that most everyone else on the planet thought she was breaking the laws of fashion by wearing argyle socks, let alone the sweaters stitched with the pattern. The only time it did bother her was when Kurt tried to attack her with V-necked tops with sequins on their shopping trips. And then it was really just him bothering her.

Tonight, however, the fact that Rachel liked argyle was a big, fat nuisance. Because Quinn most certainly did not. It wasn't hard to dig up instances in her memory where Quinn would eye her cardigans with disgust or make a snide comment about her outfit—even post-pregnancy. And as much as Rachel disapproved of changing one's self to please others, Quinn was the one person who could make her waver in her dedication to that belief.

Not that she intended on throwing every single piece of argyle clothing out and replacing it with something the ex-cheerleader _would_ like, but Rachel wanted to look good for her tonight, which she was finding to be a rather formidable task.

Most of her day was busy—starting with her usual morning routine, followed by voice lessons, lunch with Shelby, and then dance and a long bath. It was four thirty by the time Rachel finished all that, and she was already getting nervous. Her dads were out, which she was finding a good thing on the one hand and a horrible thing on the other. They weren't there to exchange those knowing looks and drive the butterflies in her stomach even crazier, but they also weren't there to distract her from her anxiousness.

So Rachel first decided to post her daily MySpace video. It was earlier than she usually did, but since she would be out with Quinn for the evening, it was the only practical way to get around missing a day. After she finished with that, she was at loose ends for a bit until she decided to style her hair. This carried her to about five twenty-three, brushing, curling, and picking out silver barrettes included.

Then she decided to try to pick an outfit. By five forty-five, she was panicking. By six, the contents of her closet had been emptied out into her room. By six fourteen, the contents of her drawers had followed. And by six thirty-four, Rachel had despaired of finding _anything_ in her entire wardrobe that Quinn would like.

This was when it might've come in handy to live with a mother, or if one of her dads had actually been a drag queen. She could have at least borrowed something that way, but instead she was surrounded by a pit of argyle with nothing to replace it with but men's wear.

Rachel splayed her limbs out across her clothing-coated bed for the next five minutes, pouting and kicking herself for not ever thinking of buying something other than things _she_ liked. It was when she spied the black lace bra lying on the floor across from her that her thinking changed and her practicality kicked back in. Of course—she would just have to approach it from the bottom up. Figuratively speaking.

She slung the bra over the chair at her desk and dug through the piles for matching underwear—not that Quinn would be seeing any of this, but it was important to Rachel to be thorough, particularly in her efforts to please the blonde. When she'd found black panties that would do (none of her pairs were lace, and for a reason—that material was scratchy), she stripped and put both on for the rest of her search.

The brunette nearly squealed in triumph when she found a flowing black skirt that came to just barely above her knees and she rushed into the bathroom to shave her legs for the occasion. Not that they really needed it, but, again, meticulousness was important to Rachel.

It was already six forty-nine by the time she finished with that, and she decided to forego the finding of an appropriate top for the time being. Instead, she put on some perfume and light makeup, remembering that too much made her look like a 'sad clown hooker,' and brushed her teeth.

Then Rachel bolted back out to her room and dove through her clothes, digging and tossing and groaning as she searched for a top that wouldn't completely repulse Quinn. All the argyle went into a haphazard pile on the other side of her bed, and it was six fifty-nine when she finally found one she thought might work. It was a collared red blouse that she hadn't worn since she was fourteen, so it fit pretty snugly, and the sleeves only went a short way down her shoulders, but it would have to do because—as she was rushing down the stairs, still buttoning the shirt and picking at her teeth and trying to settle her hair correctly—the doorbell rang.

Rachel was panting by the time she reached the door, and she took a moment to be sure that she looked at least halfway presentable before opening it. She beamed as soon as she saw Quinn, who had pulled out all the stops as well. She'd picked blue as her theme for the evening, evidently, since that was the color of her headband and dress. The sweater over top of the dress was white, and her blonde curls framed her face like a halo and she was just plain gorgeous, as always, leaving Rachel feeling a little breathless.

Until she realized that Quinn hadn't moved, either. In fact, she'd just been staring at her, ever since she opened the door, unmoving. Rachel's stomach twisted and she glanced down at herself anxiously.

"Hi. I-I know it's not the loveliest outfit, but it was sort of last minute. I had a little trouble deciding on what to wear, so I hope this will do for tonight and I swear I'll find something better for next time. I mean, if there is a next time." She swallowed, throat going dry. Quinn was still staring. "You're welcome to try to find something more appropriate if you don't like it, but I don't think you'll like my other outfits any better and—"

"Close the door," the blonde said suddenly.

She jumped, startled. "What?"

Did she really hate it that much? It wasn't even argyle….

"Close it," Quinn repeated. "I want to try that again."

"Oh…kay." Rachel's brow crinkled, but she slowly shut the door and waited patiently for the sound of the doorbell—or, alternately, the sound of Quinn's tires screeching.

The doorbell, thankfully, came instead and Rachel smoothed out her skirt, took a deep breath, and opened it.

"I—"

Whatever she'd been about to say was lost when her mouth was abruptly stolen in a searing kiss, and, as always seemed to happen whenever Quinn kissed her, Rachel's thoughts became completely incoherent. The blonde snaked possessive arms around the brunette's middle, yanking her close and simultaneously delving her tongue into her mouth. The diva felt a little dizzy, but she was distracted by something poking her in the back.

When the blonde pulled back—more out of a need for oxygen than anything else—Rachel discovered what it was, and she could only gape as Quinn spoke.

"Knew I could do much better," she said smugly, smirking at her.

The blonde still had one arm looped around her waist and she squeezed her teasingly when she noted that the brunette hadn't been paying the least bit of attention. Rachel glanced up at her and then back at the flowers in her hand, cheeks flushing. Quinn smiled, bemused.

"You can take them, you know," she said wryly. "They are yours, after all."

Rachel's eyes were wide and there was a new light in her eyes now as she gazed at the flowers. Delighted, almost possessive.

"For me?" she said, but it came out a soft whisper.

Quinn's brow quirked. "Of course."

And she gestured for Rachel to take them. The brunette hesitated, then hurriedly wrapped her hands around the base and tucked the flowers close to her nose, inhaling happily. She ran a reverent finger over the petal of a lily and then smiled shyly up at Quinn, who looked befuddled.

"No one's ever given me flowers before," the diva explained sheepishly.

The blonde gaped. "Never?"

She shook her head minutely and Quinn scowled, though at least it didn't look like she was displeased with Rachel. After a moment, she ushered her into the house with the hand lingering on her hip.

"I guess I need to show you what to do with them next, then," she said, half-irritably, half-teasingly.

The brunette beamed as she let her lead her into the house, retrieving a carafe that would suffice as a vase for the time being. Quinn unwrapped the packaging from the bouquet and stuck it in the water so the stems were submerged, and Rachel eagerly took it and placed it on the very center of the coffee table, where she could look at them all she wanted. The blonde was smirking at her when she finished arranging them to her liking.

She offered a hand. "Ready?"

Rachel grinned and bounced to Quinn's side, feeling as delighted as she had the time she received an autographed poster of Barbra Streisand for her birthday.

XXXXXX

Rachel's concerns about Quinn being nervous about their relationship in public turned out to be completely unnecessary. She opened every door she could for her—she even made her wait in the car for her to hop around and open it up—and she unabashedly held her hand as they walked through the restaurant to their seats, and even Rachel forgot that there were other people there once they were seated.

It was just as comfortable as all those times they talked on the phone, or in the diner. The only difference was that there was a new level of excitement to it, because now Quinn would brush her hand, or Rachel would dare to let her knee bump the blonde's under the table. And every so often, Quinn would pause and give her this long, intense look where her eyes roved and darkened and Rachel's breath would catch in her throat.

Quinn didn't kiss her again, though. Not until they arrived back at Rachel's house around ten o'clock—she'd been stunned to realize how late they'd stayed. They laced fingers as the blonde walked her to the door, and then she tugged her to a stop, cupped her cheeks, and gave her a lingering, tender kiss that stayed with the brunette all the way back up to her room.

Rachel spent Wednesday on a cloud. They had another date that night, but today she couldn't stop herself from obsessively checking her phone for messages—which she received plenty of, though not all of them were from a certain blonde ex-cheerleader—and sitting on the couch just so she could stare at her flowers. She pulled out an outfit that morning to avoid the later panic, and she kept it similar to her clothing of the night before, since Quinn's reaction had certainly told her she'd been heading in the right direction.

Quinn brought her another flower that night—a single one to add to the bouquet she already had—and then they went to Breadsticks again. Rachel took their 'Breadsticks' dates as a sort of jumping-off point. Eating dinner together always afforded them time to talk and get to know each other better, although they already knew each other fairly well, both from years of observing one another and their talks over the past couple weeks. Still, like Quinn said, they were taking their time, and it was wonderful.

"You know, it would be nice if you let me get the door for _you_ one of these times," Rachel said presently, shooting a sideways smile at the blonde as she climbed out of the car.

"And I thought you enjoyed being pampered," Quinn replied, smirking and taking her hand.

"Of course I do. And even if I didn't, I would certainly have to accustom myself to it, as I'll certainly be spoiled incessantly when I have my role on Broadway. However, I don't expect _you_ to pander to me, and I'd like to do something nice for you."

The blonde pulled on her hand, quite unexpectedly, and drew her closer. "I'm not pandering," she said earnestly. "I like doing things for you."

Rachel smiled. "Then do me a favor and let me do something nice for you for once."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "How did I know you were going to turn that around on me?"

"I fear we're starting to know one another far too well. I knew you were going to roll your eyes," she replied, grinning.

"Mm, we must be stopped."

"Clearly."

Quinn smirked and dipped down, giving her another of those chaste, delicate kisses that always left Rachel missing the first night they'd kissed. Not because these kisses weren't good—amazing, was what they were—but they weren't enough. She wanted more of Quinn all the time.

The blonde receded slowly and the hand cupping the base of Rachel's neck kept her from following. Fortunately, Quinn didn't go far. She opened her eyes lazily, a smile playing across her lips as she murmured, "Be my girlfriend?"

Happiness bubbled up in Rachel's middle faster than she was expecting it to and it took her breath away. She could only grin and bob her head joyfully in the affirmative, and then Quinn took control of her mouth again. This time she skimmed her tongue along the brunette's bottom lip and she was immediately granted access. They were both panting when the blonde pulled back again, Dazzling at her this time.

"See? You just did something nice for me."

"It was a nice moment, Quinn," Rachel scolded lightly, but a smile betrayed her.

She smirked. "Sorry." The blonde pecked her lips again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The brunette smiled. "Okay. Good night."

Another peck. "Night."

And then Quinn finally managed to tear herself away, and Rachel bounced into the house on cloud nine.

XXXXXX

Rachel was nervous about the fair. Of course, she'd been nervous about every single step she took in her relationship with Quinn, and every time it turned out fine. Besides, from what Quinn said, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and Noah all knew and they were already on their side. It was just Finn she was worried about, really, since Tina had seemed all right with Rachel's side of it, and Kurt definitely wouldn't care. She couldn't see Mike and Matt reacting poorly, and Artie was the most comfortable out of all the guys with Kurt's gayness. So, hopefully, it wouldn't be a big deal.

Except with Finn, with whom it was certain to be a big deal. Rachel could only hope he wouldn't make a huge fuss, although he wasn't really the type.

What Rachel was really concerned about was how being around all those people would affect Quinn. She didn't know what to expect from her girlfriend in this situation, and she certainly didn't want to push. So, rather than dolling herself up and getting too overenthusiastic, Rachel threw on a tank top and Capri's and swung her hair up into a ponytail. The clothing would help remind her that it was a casual event, and then she wouldn't be too hurt if Quinn spent more of her time with her fellow cheerleaders than her, or something trivial like that.

Her dads were letting her borrow the car again, since they were spending the day in—she didn't want to know—so she drove to the fairgrounds around ten. It was already packed and filled with screaming kids, who she dodged on her way to the picnic tables by the Ferris wheel, where they'd all agreed to meet. She ran into Finn before she got there.

He was in the midst of getting some cotton candy, and she nearly bowled him over. She caught the pink cotton candy before it hit the ground and he sighed in relief.

"Thanks, Rachel. Mercedes would've killed me if I wasted her dollar," Finn said, sighing. He wasn't meeting her eyes, but at least he didn't sound angry.

She twirled the stick in her fingers and smiled up at him. "Not a problem. Is everyone here, then?"

He bobbed his head and started walking, and she hurried to catch up.

"Except Kurt. But he's probably still trying to figure out if he can buy a hairspray that'll deflect dirt."

Rachel laughed and Finn shot her a reluctant, lopsided smile.

"Well, hopefully he'll figure out how fruitless his search is before he misses all the fun."

"Yeah. I know he's not looking forward to the electronic bull, though, so maybe we can get that over with first."

She grinned. "I'm sure no one would object to that."

They were nearing the picnic tables now, so she put out her free hand to stop him, guiding him to the side of the path so they wouldn't be run over by children who were hopped up on sugar. He frowned at her apprehensively, but he didn't object verbally, so Rachel took a breath and met his gaze.

"Are you going to be all right? I mean, with…with me and Quinn?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes, and she sighed.

"Finn, I don't want to lose you as a friend. I told you I care about you. I meant it. So if you're not all right with it, please…tell me."

"How could I be all right with it?" he asked harshly, frowning at her now, and she flinched. "She's going to hurt you, Rach—"

She couldn't help herself when she barked, "Stop," and he stared at down at her in surprise, awkwardly juggling the cotton candy.

"Quinn hasn't done anything to hurt me, and if she does, I'm a big girl. I moved on from you, didn't I?" Rachel asked, bending to meet his eyes when he ducked his head again.

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"And I know that if I do get burnt…I'll have my friend there to help me through it. But I don't want to hear anymore negative comments about Quinn unless that happens."

Again, Finn offered a grudging nod. "Fine."

She sighed. "Thank you."

The moderate silence—punctuated by screaming and laughing and games—quickly became tiresome for Rachel, and she let her gaze wander from Finn to the picnic tables. It wasn't difficult to spot the group of nine other glee clubbers, all trying to squish themselves onto the benches next to each other. And it was almost less difficult to spot the hazel eyes that had already picked them out of the throng and were now narrowed on Finn suspiciously.

Rachel smiled to herself and took another of the cotton candy sticks from Finn.

"Now, what do you say we get back to our friends?" she offered, beaming up at him when he sent another lopsided smile her way.

"I say that sounds good," he replied, and Rachel braced herself as she walked to the picnic table at Finn's side.


	18. Arguments and Amusement

**A/N:** So my piece of trash PC crashed and I had to completely rewrite the chapters of my WIPs. But the good news is that I am now on my brand spankin' new MacBook Pro typing this up and viewing (and hearing) Faberry the way they were meant to be seen (and heard)—HD, baby. ;) Probably a lot of Finn hate with this chapter—didn't expect him to give up that easily, did you?

**Arguments and Amusement**

"Hello, everyone," Rachel said cheerfully, as the two of them arrived at the packed picnic table.

"Hey, it's the Divanator—Finn, my cotton candy, bro!" Mike exclaimed, trying to disentangle himself from the bench.

"Rachel has yours," Finn grumbled, still trying to juggle the other five he was carrying.

The brunette offered his up before he could attack her and smiled when her other friends returned her greeting. Even Santana muttered, "Hi, Berry." She swallowed before she turned her gaze to Quinn, whose attention hadn't lifted from her since they started walking over. The blonde smiled, and the way her eyes automatically brightened made Rachel beam.

"Hi, Quinn," she said, and it came out softer than she'd intended.

"Hey." And then—quite unexpectedly, in Rachel's opinion—she took her hand and kissed her knuckle, eliciting a chorus of, 'aww's from the glee clubbers still paying attention, save for Santana. The brunette blushed, but the blonde just rolled her eyes.

Mike had already dug into his cotton candy with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old, and the rest of the boys were involved in an animated debate about Mario Brothers. Rachel could guess who'd started it. She only wished they could get that excited when discussing things related to glee club.

She handed Mercedes's cotton candy over to her, and the other girl offered the brunette a surprisingly large smile.

"Kurt's gonna have a heart attack when he sees you're not wearing knee-highs," she commented, and winked.

Quinn chuckled lightly, squeezing Rachel's hand. The diva felt her cheeks go red again.

"Well, they aren't exactly practical in an environment in which there is so much potential for ruining them," she explained, trying to get that authoritative tone back in her voice—it was difficult when Quinn was rubbing her thumb in circles over her hand that way.

And when Finn was pouting at them. Rachel averted her gaze, trying to spy a place to squeeze in. Finn had eliminated most of the space on Quinn's side of the bench, and there was no way Santana would scoot over for her—even if she _was_ willing to offer a mumbled greeting, possibly to placate Quinn. So Rachel just shifted awkwardly at the head of the table until she felt a light tug on her hand, drawing her closer to Quinn, who had leaned back from the table a bit—leaving her lap wide open. The brunette smiled shyly, glancing at the others.

"I-I don't want to crush you," she told her quietly.

Quinn's brow quirked. "Really?" With another tug, Rachel had landed in the blonde's lap with a yelp, and she arched up until her lips were against the brunette's earlobe, murmuring lowly, "Cause I want you to."

Rachel nearly gasped at the shudder that traveled down her spine before settling in the pit of her stomach, but before she could recover and even attempt teasing Quinn back—and she wasn't so certain flirtation was amongst her many talents anyway—Santana groaned.

"Q," she snapped. "What was the _first_ rule I instated about today?"

Quinn smirked at her. "It's cute that you thought I was listening."

Everyone but the two Cheerios had involved themselves in some other conversation; the blonde cheerleader was smiling at them around a mouthful of cotton candy, and the Latina glowered at them. Rachel looked between the glaring girls in confusion before Brittany perked up.

"Rule number one was that Quinn isn't allowed to make any suggestive comments to Man Hands while in San's presence, because being around her is bad enough without those mental images," she said cheerfully.

The blonde beneath Rachel stiffened, her arms tightening around the brunette's waist, but before she could ask what was wrong, she spoke.

"I explicitly told you _not_ to call her that," Quinn snarled, but her gaze was directed at Santana, rather than Brittany.

"No, you told me not to call her the Whiny Wonder. You never said I couldn't use Man Hands," she corrected, smirking haughtily.

Rachel's stomach clenched when Quinn said, dangerously lowly, "Well, you can't."

"Yeti?"

"_No_."

"Quasimodo?"

"Santana!" Her voice was veering alarmingly close to 'Stubbles' territory, and it made Rachel want to bolt, but Quinn's arms had her trapped snugly on top of her.

"You are seriously cutting down my options here, Q. What am I _supposed_ to call her?"

"How about her actual name?" the blonde snapped.

She shook her head. "No can do."

Rachel shifted uncomfortably and managed to gradually ease an arm away while Quinn was distracted by her aggravation with Santana. "I…think I'm going to get some cotton candy."

Neither girl noticed, but Brittany popped up. "I'll come with you!"

The brunette schooled the surprise off of her expression as she walked back to the stand at the taller blonde's side. Neither said a word, so Rachel took the opportunity to try to calm her stomach and nerves. The last thing she wanted was to drive a wedge between Quinn and her best friend, and it looked like just her presence was enough to do that.

"San's not trying to hurt your feelings," Brittany said when they were about halfway through the line.

Rachel's head snapped up. "What?"

"She just likes to make Q mad," she said simply. "So don't have hurt feelings."

The brunette blinked. "Oh."

Who on earth would _want_ to incite Quinn's wrath? Just the thought made Rachel feel a little sick. Quinn could be downright vicious when she was mad, and though the brunette herself hadn't made her angry in some time, she would go out of her way to avoid it in a heartbeat—even before she'd realized how much she cared about the blonde. Anyone who wouldn't was insane.

But then, Santana had always seemed a little bit on the crazy side to Rachel.

"They'll be fine when we get back," Brittany assured her, as though she'd just thought of it. "They do this a lot."

The brunette smiled gratefully for the reassurance. "I see."

"Like that time Quinn sang to you," she said, beaming.

"Quinn—" Rachel stopped abruptly. She'd been about to say that Quinn never sang to her, because she certainly would've remembered that happening. But not if Quinn never explicitly said it was for her. She stared up at the other girl in awe. "That…that was for me?" she whispered.

Her brow crinkled. "You didn't know?"

"I…it just didn't occur to me until…." She swallowed heavily. "She really did it for me?"

She bobbed her head. "She asked me to choreograph and everything. It was really fun."

Rachel couldn't help a small smile. "I'm glad."

The diva paid for Brittany's new stick of cotton candy since she'd finished hers off in line—it was the least she could do, seeing that this was one of the first times the blonde girl had ever truly acknowledged her—and the taller girl was soon telling Rachel about how she and Santana went to the zoo once a month and bought cotton candy. But Brittany usually got blue cotton candy instead of pink because it tasted better. The brunette smiled at her in amusement.

"Did you want blue instead? I'm sure someone else wouldn't mind eating that one if you'd prefer—"

"That's okay. I haven't had the fair's kind and it might be better," she said seriously, taking another bite.

"Hey, you okay?" Finn cut in.

Rachel jumped—she hadn't seen him coming—and her brow furrowed. "Yes, of course."

"Are you sure? I heard Santana and—"

She sighed. "Finn." His eyes went round and pleading, but she set her jaw. "I'm _fine_."

He nodded reluctantly, though he still looked dubious, and Rachel turned her attention back to the taller blonde. As she'd promised, Santana and Quinn were back to chatting pleasantly by the time they arrived, all traces of their previous anger faded. The brunette had to do a double take to make sure they were at the right table.

Quinn beamed up at her and Rachel sank into her lap, ignoring the pout Finn shot them as he went back to his seat on the bench in favor of planting a kiss on the blonde's forehead.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" she asked, looping her arms back around the diva's waist.

Rachel smiled. "Brittany just reminded me that I hadn't properly thanked you for something nice you did for me." Quinn frowned in confusion, so she leaned down to murmur in her ear, "I only want to be with you, too."

When she pulled back, the blonde's cheeks were tinted pink, but there was a smile on her face and a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I do seem to remember a distinct lack of reward for that," she purred, and Rachel flashed her a grin.

"How rude of me. I hope you accept late payment," she replied, matching Quinn's tone.

This flirting thing turned out to be easier than she'd thought—Quinn's eyes darkened and she tilted her head up toward Rachel's until their noses were almost touching.

"Mm, only with interest," she murmured back.

"I suppose I may as well start now, then."

Rachel smiled briefly when Quinn nodded, and closed the now microscopic gap between their lips. She distantly heard Santana gag.

"You two are sickening," she commented disgustedly.

"Whoa! When did _that_ happen?" one of the boys yelped.

The brunette pulled back with a blush, and Quinn turned to glower at the culprit—Mike, apparently.

"You guys are lesbifriends now?" Matt asked, eyes wide.

"Did you know about this?" Artie muttered to Tina.

Finn scowled at his folded arms, and Noah smacked Matt and Mike upside the head.

"They are!" Brittany said cheerfully.

"You got a problem with that?" Santana, to Rachel's surprise, snarled.

The boys, rubbing their heads, exchanged nervous glances. Matt gulped.

"No. It's just, uh..."

"Unprecedented," Artie finished.

"Yeah! Whatever that word means."

"Unexpected," Rachel supplied. "And I completely understand your befuddlement—" Quinn shot her a glance "—however, I would also appreciate your support in our new relationship, taking into consideration how many times I have aided you in your efforts to maintain a satisfactory academic record." The blonde smirked.

Both boys began stammering their apologies and undying devotion to the respect and support they would forever share for the two loveliest women at McKinley High. Rachel and Quinn exchanged smirks.

"Artie?" Tina said suddenly, and her voice was sharper than any of the others had ever heard it.

"What?" He glanced between them. "Oh! It-it's fine with me. Just, like I said, unprecedented."

She smiled approvingly, and with the exception of Finn, they all went back to chatting merrily, with only a few odd glances spared when Rachel and Quinn laced fingers.

XXXXXX

After Kurt arrived—fashionably late, in his words—the group spread out to ride rides, play games, and look at the farm animals in the barns. Quinn, much to Rachel's delight, never left the brunette's side, and the two spent much of the day in the company of Santana and Brittany. Occasionally, Mercedes joined them when Kurt refused to participate in activities like the mechanical bull.

Around lunch, Santana and Brittany disappeared—Rachel really didn't want to know—and the girls ended up in the company of Finn and Noah. They decided to feast at one of the many pizza stands, which was when the real trouble started.

Finn paid for her food. Rachel really hadn't meant to let him—she was going to pay for it herself. But while she and Quinn were engaged in a playful argument over it, Finn ordered her breadsticks and then, to top it off, carried it back to the picnic table for her. Quinn fumed, but said nothing, evidently determined to remain civil in the face of this blatant disrespect to her status as Rachel's girlfriend.

Rachel purposefully sat next to her in the hopes that she would be placated, but the blonde was still tense, and only loosened up through discussion between the two of them and Noah. Finn then decided it would be perfectly appropriate to take care of his and the brunette's trash, but neither Noah nor Quinn's, though both of them were done. Again, the blonde tensed, but refused to acknowledge his unspoken challenge.

The diva was relieved when they went to try some of the rides again—there would be no opportunity for Finn to attempt to usurp Quinn. Or so she'd thought.

They all four squeezed into one of the spinning rides, and Finn was on the inside since he was the tallest. He swung his arm around Rachel's shoulders when she was whipped into his body by the force of the spinning. Noah was starting to get irritated now. He positioned the brunette between himself and Quinn the second time they road it, and both girls shot him grateful smiles.

But Finn wasn't deterred. He opened the entrance and exit gates for Rachel, retrieved her keys for her when she dropped them, rushed to buy her a popsicle when the rest of them had ice cream, and through all this, Quinn became more and more statue-like. Rachel could see her resolve wearing down and knew that eventually her control would snap, but the brunette really wasn't sure what to do about it.

Noah kept trying to distract Finn—even suggested they ride the mechanical bull again to get him away from the girls—but nothing seemed to help. And Rachel was growing tired of it, as well. She hadn't come to the fair today hoping to be fought over. She'd just wanted a nice, relaxing day with her friends and with Quinn. And she'd sincerely thought she'd made herself clear to Finn, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that she hadn't been clear enough.

They rejoined the rest of their friends toward the end of the day, and it was decided that they would ride the Ferris wheel one more time before going out to a real restaurant. Kurt and Mercedes slipped on one together; Santana and Brittany took another; Mike and Matt hopped into one so they could rock it without making one of the girls throw up. Tina took Artie to play one of the gun games one more time, and that's when Finn almost broke the camel's back.

Rachel could tell Quinn was eager for the alone time the Ferris wheel would afford them. Throughout the day, they'd only held hands and exchanged light touches and heated glances, and the blonde was getting antsy for more. While they waited in line, she kept herself positioned firmly between Rachel and Finn, and her hands slid down to rub over the brunette's hips more than once, making her all the more anxious to be alone with the blonde.

Only then, Finn started a shoving match with Noah. It started out playful—they'd just been arguing about Halo, and then Finn pushed him lightly. And their antics soon had the other glee clubbers laughing, even Quinn. But before long, the taller boy gave a too-hard shove and Noah nearly took out the blonde. And Finn slipped into the seat before Rachel could protest.

They started moving, and Rachel gaped at him. "Finn!"

He looked at her innocently. "What?"

And she was so angry she could've shoved him out. She could not believe his nerve. Had she not made it plain enough that she was with _Quinn_? That she was _happy_? That they were just friends and that's all she wanted? The rage boiled up until it consumed her, making her stomach twist and her heart race and her head pound with the horrible sensation, and Rachel folded her arms tight across her chest, turning to face pointedly away from him.

The brunette flinched when she felt Finn's arm stretch across the back of the seat, almost touching her, but she was so angry she couldn't even speak. Her throat felt thick and tight, and the venomous words aching to lash out at the dimwit were stuck on the tip of her tongue, and she felt that if she spoke to him—looked at him, even—she would simply explode into a ball of violent flames instead of forming a proper sentence.

Finn was either having a rare moment of perceptiveness, or he thought he was 'getting to her' or something, because he said nothing through the whole ride. He only kept his arm across the back and gradually scooted lower in his seat, looking out at the view the Ferris wheel offered, and when it stopped and Rachel charged from her seat so fast she could've left a vapor trail, he trotted after her.

"Rach, what's wrong?" he called, but she didn't stop until she reached their friends at the picnic table they were waiting at.

"Everything okay?" Tina asked concernedly.

Rachel offered her a sharp, curt nod, and started pacing. She held her arms to her chest, feeling sick and violated, somehow, and the last thing she wanted to do was look at Finn.

"What-what's wrong? Are you okay?" Finn asked when he caught up, breathing hard.

Rachel's shoulders tightened of their own accord, and she couldn't talk. Couldn't even get a syllable out. Fortunately for her, Santana read the situation and intervened.

"Why don't you just back the hell off, Finnessa?" she snarled, and Rachel was too angry to be surprised that the Latina was coming to her rescue.

Finn looked taken aback. "Wha—I didn't do anything!"

"Didn't _do_ anything?" Noah growled as he came up behind them, a scowling Quinn in tow. "Dude, you've been hitting on Rachel since she got here."

"I have not. I'm just being a friend. That's what you said you wanted, right?" he prompted, turning to the brunette now.

She froze, staring at him, and he just gazed back at her pleadingly. She couldn't believe it.

"I'm going home," she managed—but her voice was monotone and so quiet she wasn't sure anyone heard.

Until Finn said brightly, "I'll walk you to your car."

Rachel whipped around, fists clenched and eyes burning, but someone else beat her to it.

"All right, that is _it_, you miserable shit!" Quinn roared, even stomping her foot.

At any other time, it would've seemed childish. But coming from Quinn, when her hazel eyes were ablaze with fury and her face was set with cold disdain and her voice sounded so poisonous and harsh, it was downright scary. Santana even stepped around to Quinn's other side, exchanging a glance with Noah. Rachel jumped when she felt hands on her shoulders, but relaxed marginally when she realized it was only Brittany.

Finn frowned. "What?"

They were now catching the attention of passers by, some of whom glanced over in interest while the rest hurried past in the hopes that they wouldn't get dragged into it.

She fumed. "When are you going to get it through your skull? Rachel is _mine_! _My_ girlfriend, _not_ yours, and you _will_ respect that, or—"

The tall boy chuckled, though Rachel could hear the nervous edge to it. "Or what? You'll do a round-off?"

Noah and Santana latched onto Quinn's shoulders when she lunged for him, and Finn betrayed his bravado by stumbling backward a step. The other glee club members stood by helplessly while the scene unfolded; Brittany was still rubbing Rachel's shoulder supportively. The brunette, however, had had enough.

All the rage came bursting up and out of her petite little frame all at once, only instead of a litany of criticisms, it was one word: "_Stop_!"

Every glee club member froze, including Quinn, who looked at Rachel with a mixture of fury and shock. Finn gulped when the brunette glowered up at him, marching forward and out of Brittany's protective bubble. She seized his wrist.

"You, come with me. _Now_."

Though she wasn't really giving him much choice in the matter. She was surprisingly strong for her size, and Finn was too stunned to put up much of a fight. She drove her sneakers into the ground, making dirt rise up around her feet—and she thanked her earlier decision not to wear her knee-highs—and made good time getting behind the bird barn. Once there, she released him and whirled on her heel with a glower ready-made. Finn looked so taken aback he didn't say anything, and she was grateful for his silence.

"I can't _believe_ you just ruined an entire day that was supposed to be _fun_ for all of us over this," Rachel scolded, voice thick with ire. "And after you said you would be all right—after you said you would respect my decision! After you _promised_ me! I can't believe it. I just...I don't understand you at all! How could you do that to me? To Quinn? Couldn't you at least have backed off to respect your dead relationship with her?"

"Hey! She _lied_ to me, all right? She lost any right to respect she had right there," Finn snapped back, looking a little red now.

Rachel was too angry to care. "I don't care. You made a promise, Finn. You promised me!"

"I promised not to make negative comments about her. I never said I would give up on us," he retorted.

"_Why_? After everything I've told you, why can't you just let it go? We are friends—why can't you just be happy with that?"

"Because I love you!" he said desperately.

"And I love Quinn!" she bellowed back.

He blinked at her, expression disbelieving. Rachel was too caught up to realize it—let alone what she'd just said.

"You said you wanted to see me happy. Well? Here it is. I'm happy. _Quinn_ makes me happy," she continued sharply. "So _back off_, before you lose the chance to be my friend, too."

And with that, Rachel stormed back to the picnic table, leaving Finn to stare after her in utter shock. She made good time again, fueled by her rage, and she barely took in the scene before her as she stomped up. Quinn had her forehead pressed flat to the table while Mercedes and Brittany rubbed her back from either side; Santana was pacing furiously nearby; Noah, Mike, and Matt appeared to be playing lookout; and Artie, Tina, and Kurt were all leaned over the blonde head, as though comforting her.

Noah noticed her first, and when Rachel arrived, Santana stiffened and marched over, arms folded.

"Berry, don't you—"

"Save it, Santana, I don't have time for you right now," Rachel snipped, and even she was surprised by her bravery.

The Latina could only gape at her, blinking with the rest of them, leaving the brunette her opening.

"Quinn," she said sharply, and the blonde stiffened, looking apprehensive. "Walk me to my car."

There was a moment of hesitation, but as soon as Rachel turned to make her escape from the fairgrounds, she heard footsteps behind her and soon the ex-cheerleader was matching her stride. The brunette was aware of Quinn's constant glances, but she didn't acknowledge them outwardly. She wasn't ready to talk yet. She wanted to use the time it took to get to her car to formulate her words—and calm down.

But she couldn't think of one word to sum up how she felt about all this. Usually she was so eloquent; words were like breathing to her—natural, easy. But now it was like someone had a hand around her throat, and she couldn't find a way around it.

They were a few steps from her car when Rachel figured out exactly what she was going to do. She just needed to gather the courage to do it. They'd almost reached the door. Quinn slipped in front of her, a strained look on her face.

"Rachel, I—"

The brunette grabbed a fistful of the blonde's t-shirt at the same time as she popped up on her tiptoes, forcing their lips together. Quinn stumbled backward in surprise, and Rachel had her against the car door in short order, and the taller girl ceased the minimal struggling she'd been putting up in favor of wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and opening her mouth to the brunette's questing tongue. Rachel took her time exploring the wonderful mouth she'd gotten familiar with Monday afternoon, tasting the chocolate ice cream she'd had just a while ago and moaning at the pleasure of being surrounded with Quinn's unique scent and the taste of her mouth and the feel of her hands roaming through her hair and the soft warmth of her skin under—

Rachel tore her mouth away and jerked her hands forcefully out from beneath Quinn's shirt, leaving the blonde to whimper her disappointment and haul her back up against her body.

"I'm sorry," the brunette breathed, keeping her hands safely up in her beautiful blonde locks. "I got a little...carried away."

Quinn shook her head against her forehead. "Don't apologize. It felt..." She kissed her, as though she'd decided words were insufficient.

Rachel accepted it happily, and they spent the next several minutes simply enjoying each other, until they just couldn't breathe anymore. Then Quinn met brown eyes concernedly, again looking strained.

"I...I thought you were angry with me," she confessed quietly.

The brunette couldn't help it—she laughed. "And why would I be upset with _you_? You weren't the one blatantly disregarding my affections for someone else after I'd told you in no uncertain terms that I only felt friendship for you."

Her cheeks went pink. "Yeah, but I kind of freaked on him and—"

"And you had every right," Rachel said sincerely. "You tolerated it very well all day, and he pushed you over the edge. I'm just sorry I didn't put a stop to it sooner. I didn't know what to do to make it clear to him."

"It's all right," she assured her, stroking a hand over her hair affectionately. "I get that you don't want to hurt him."

"I may have just now. But I don't care, if it means he'll leave us alone. I meant it. I only want you, Quinn," she said softly, reaching up to kiss her gently again.

The blonde smiled, but before she could reply, they were interrupted by a honking horn.

"So, uh, can you guys be done necking so we can go to dinner?" Noah asked, hanging half-out the window of Matt's car.

They laughed, and Rachel stepped back to give Quinn room to move.

"McDonald's?" the blonde asked.

"Where else?"

"We'll see you there in ten."

"Drive on!" Noah exclaimed, plopping back down in his seat.

Quinn beamed at her girlfriend as the sound of their music faded and dipped to give her a lingering kiss before they drove off to join their friends at McDonald's. To Rachel's relief, Finn didn't show up, and she and Quinn were free to squeeze into a booth with Mercedes, and the blonde took great pride in opening her doors, paying for her meal, and throwing her trash away—to much teasing from their fellow glee clubbers. She didn't seem to care, though, and they all settled into the alteration in their dynamic. Even Santana wasn't making disgusted noises when they kissed goodbye at the end of the evening.

And they managed to salvage the day.

XXXXXX

**A/N:** Okay, so I hope that was worth the wait. :) Also, this should be the last chapter dealing excessively with outside factors (a.k.a. Finn or Jesse).


	19. Outfits and an Outing

**A/N:** I believe someone asked in a review of one of my stories if it's typical for my updates to be so far apart. Well, they wouldn't be if I didn't have five classes this semester, including a voice class (eek). I would love to update more frequently, but right now I will have to update things whenever I can. Thank you guys for your understanding, and if it makes you feel better, think of my voice class as research. ;)

**Outfits and an Outing**

Rachel hadn't seen Quinn in three days. Not a lot, in the long run, but she felt as though she was actually going through withdrawal symptoms. Friday had been spent with texts and a chat session on Facebook that lasted until about two in the morning. Saturday was therefore spent in recovery and shopping with their respective mothers—although they did talk briefly before bed, and Rachel was grateful to get another of those strange opportunities to talk to Beth over the phone.

Sunday night, Quinn mentioned going to a movie via text, and Rachel was suddenly relieved that she hadn't had a date in three days. Why? Because she had completely run out of Quinn-date-worthy clothing. Those two outfits she'd chosen for Tuesday and Wednesday were lucky draws, and Thursday fortunately hadn't required dressy attire, but now Rachel was back to her original dilemma.

So, rather than answering Quinn, Rachel repeated her dresser and closet raid, with almost the same result. This time, she couldn't find anything that didn't have an argyle pattern or a cute little animal stitched somewhere, and what little she could find without either of those would be considered unsightly for reasons all of its own.

The diva was back to square one. Nothing in her closet, definitely nothing in her fathers's closets…why hadn't she thought to buy something more appropriate when she went shopping with Shelby? She couldn't bother her mother now, and her dads were out. Calling Quinn so she could go shopping for clothing for her dates with Quinn was a big no-no. None of the boys would be useful in this area, and even if Santana and Brittany had been supportive on Thursday, it probably wasn't the best idea to assume she could call them with her problems. Tina wasn't exactly a fashionista, and even if Rachel and Mercedes were getting along better these days, the brunette wasn't sure she wanted to show up to her date wearing bling.

That left one person. And Rachel really, _really_ didn't want to call him.

But what other choice did she have? She supposed she could always try wearing her own clothing and Quinn would just have to deal with it, but….

Rachel sighed, changing tacks. She needed to look at this logically and objectively. She liked Quinn—duh, that was obvious to anyone with half a brain. She wanted to please Quinn—again, anyone with half a brain…. The question was, was she dedicated enough to being aesthetically pleasing to her girlfriend that she would willingly subject herself to a day's worth of torture?

The brunette was almost displeased when her automatic answer to that was: yes. She grudgingly scooped up her phone, typing in a quick message to put Quinn off, and then dialed the number with Rachel Berry-style dramatics.

"Hey, Kurt? It's me."

XXXXXX

"I thought this day would never come," Kurt sighed happily.

Rachel scowled at the dressing room door, and then at the pair of skin-tight jeans he'd insisted she try on. She wasn't so sure they would fit, even though they were the right size. In fact, she wasn't so sure a stick person could fit into them. And she wasn't crazy about the 'fashionable' rips in the knees and thighs. Honestly, if she wanted ripped jeans, she would rip the few pairs she had with scissors—not go to the store and buy fifty dollar ones for the same result.

She sighed. But, she'd promised herself she'd put up with it. If only for Quinn. Rachel shucked off her skirt.

"Yeah, you've mentioned that," she called back, grunting as she slipped her legs into the tiny little holes they called pants.

"Have I?" He sighed contentedly again. "I just can't help it. If I had known being with Quinn would do the trick, I would've been matchmaking _months_ ago."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't," Rachel replied, shaking her head. She almost yelped with surprise when she managed to jerk the jeans the rest of the way up her legs. God, it felt like she had a second layer of skin! She wiggled a little, trying in vain to get comfortable.

"And why is that?" he retorted suspiciously.

"Quinn needed to come around to this in her own time. Your meddling wouldn't have done anyone any good," she snipped with an unintentional gasp as she pulled the zipper up.

"True," he said thoughtfully. "And the fact that you were head-over-heels for Finn wouldn't have helped matters."

Rachel stiffened—she couldn't help it. She hadn't seen Finn since the fair, either, and though his absence didn't make her lunge to her phone every time it _might've_ made a noise, it did make her worry. Despite his shenanigans, she still wanted to be Finn's friend—she _was_ his friend—and she cared about him. She was worried.

"How…how is Finn?" she asked quietly.

There was silence on the other side, and Rachel winced, even though she knew Kurt was probably just _trying_ to freak her out.

"He's dealing," he said at length. "I'm not going to say he's alive with the sound of music, or anything, but at least he doesn't think it's the end of the world."

A breath of relief rushed past her lips. That was a good sign. If Finn was either extreme—fine with it, or so depressed he wouldn't come out of his room—she would've been worried. The former would've indicated that he still hadn't gotten the message that she belonged to Quinn and didn't want to belong to anyone else. And the latter? Well, that probably would've meant they could never be friends again.

"He said you said you loved Quinn," Kurt added, and she heard that suspicious lilt to his voice again.

Rachel froze again. She knew he was waiting for some sort of response, even though he hadn't asked a question, but she couldn't give that to him. She didn't really know what to say about that, and she'd been avoiding thinking about it since Thursday. Frankly, she'd been so caught up in the heat of the moment she hadn't realized she'd actually said it. And to someone who wasn't Quinn.

That was one of the only things she could think about, when she let herself. The fact that she'd said it to Finn first, and not Quinn. Quinn was the one who deserved to know first, right? If it was even true…. The brunette shook her head with a sigh. She'd meant it when she said it—she knew that much. But did she mean it like Finn and Kurt had taken it? She didn't know.

"I didn't lie," Rachel said at last, and she cleared her throat, taking off her shirt. "Quinn has become a good friend, and I care about her very much." There. That was all true.

"So you…love her like you love Tina?" Kurt pressed, sounding uncertain—and a little disturbed.

She paused again, then shook her head before she realized he couldn't see her.

"No." She snatched the black shirt he'd picked out for her and pulled it off the hanger. "I love Quinn like…." She sighed.

He waited, but he was never very patient, and soon she heard a huff followed by, "Like…?"

Rachel took another breath. She didn't know what she wanted to say. How could she explain it to him? And, before she'd decided, the words came spilling past her lips.

"Like she's my best friend, but more than that. Like I'm standing at the edge, about to fall, but I haven't just yet."

Kurt scoffed. "Always the dramatic one."

Rachel smirked, pulling on the shirt. "You're one to talk. Now I'm coming out. Do not laugh at me, or I'll have all your solos for a month."

With a bracing breath, she twisted the knob and emerged, and as soon as she saw the look on his face, her stomach dropped.

"You _so_ have to wear that."

XXXXXX

_I hate jeans_, Rachel groused, tugging the ridiculous jeans up over her thighs. Had they somehow gotten tighter since yesterday? She thought they might've. Maybe they shrank overnight…. Or maybe carrying the truckload of outfits Kurt had insisted she buy had strengthened her legs, and the new muscle mass had made her too large to wear the jeans anymore.

Once they were finally on and zipped, she snatched the black shirt from her bed and fiddled with it, trying to find the bottom. It wouldn't have been so difficult, except that the top had so much cleavage…. She tried to brush her irritation away. Kurt knew what he was talking about, after all (when it came to fashion, anyway), and this was for Quinn. Anything for Quinn.

Rachel surveyed herself in the mirror one more time before she headed downstairs. Why did she listen to Kurt? She looked like some Hollywood reject trying to make a comeback. At least she didn't look like a sad clown hooker. She hoped. She hadn't gone too heavy on the makeup, so—

The doorbell rang, and Rachel raced for the door, even though there was no one home to beat her there. She readjusted her hair, feeling self-conscious with these new bangs. Kurt had told her that if they were going to do a makeover, they were going to do it right, so he'd dragged her to the hair salon. And what started as a wash and trim turned into a full-blown haircut, and even though she'd agreed to it…well, now that Quinn was going to see it, she was having second thoughts.

The diva shoved the thoughts aside. Kurt knew what he was talking about, Quinn would like it, it was going to be fine. She sighed and, with another of those bracing breaths that never seemed to work, opened the door.

"Hey!" The blonde hurried forward to peck her lips, and Rachel smiled hopefully at her when she pulled back. The smile started to fade when hazel eyes narrowed and laser-focused, starting with the heels the brunette was wearing and working their way up. Yep, Rachel was going to kill Kurt.

"Hi. Um…di-did you decide what movie you wanted to see, or…?" She gulped. The eyes had landed on the bangs. "Uh…d-d-do you…do you like it?"

Quinn didn't answer right away. She stepped forward instead, and Rachel instinctively backed up, which was apparently what the blonde wanted, since she started circling her. The brunette noticed then that another flower for her bouquet was dangling at the ex-cheerleader's side, but that didn't help quell the angry fluttering of the butterflies in her stomach. God, why did Quinn make her so nervous? No one else had this power over her, and half of Rachel hated it. The other half could only hope she had even a tenth of that hold over Quinn.

The blonde stood in front of her at last, brow arched critically, though it appeared she had finished her examination. Rachel's heart dropped and she started fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt—mostly out of habit. Normally, she had sleeves to fiddle with, but without that comfort zone she had to settle. It didn't make her feel much better.

"You don't like it," she said dejectedly.

"No, no," Quinn replied, and the brunette glanced up, daring to hope. "I do. It's just…."

She fell silent again and Rachel felt like that argyle-clad girl standing in front of an intimidating, slushie-bearing, newly-instated head cheerleader all over again. Her stomach roiled.

"What?" she prompted, and Quinn must've heard the desperation in her voice, because she softened immediately.

"I just don't think I can take you out in that," she said, her voice teasing.

The blonde slid closer, wrapping her arms loosely around Rachel's waist, and the brunette relished in the comfort of her hands rubbing circles over her lower back. But she didn't return the embrace just yet.

What did she mean, she couldn't take her out in 'that'? That almost sounded like…like Finn's 'sad clown hooker' speech. Rachel knew it. She looked ridiculous, and Quinn was just too nice to say anything.

"Oh."

Quinn's arms tightened. "Rach, I didn't mean it like that," she said firmly, and the brunette gaped at her.

"How did you…?"

"I know you," the blonde replied, and if Rachel wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of superiority in her voice. "Look, I'm going to be honest with you."

"I expect that," she said, nodding for her to go ahead.

"You look hot," Quinn said bluntly. Rachel felt her cheeks start to burn, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact. "So hot that I'm not sure I can take you out in public, because as amazing as I am, even I can't fight off all the people who would be drooling after you." Her trademark smirk faded when she took a breath, sobering. "And so hot that I'm not sure I can trust myself to stay in with you."

The brunette tried not to let herself shudder at the image that went through her mind at that, but she had to loop her arms around Quinn's neck to keep herself upright. But as much as she wanted Quinn, and as loudly as her body was screaming, '_Yes, yes, yes!_', her mind was answering, '_not yet_.' She wasn't ready. After all, they had only been on three dates including this one (though Rachel was starting to wonder how she'd ever lived her life as anything but Quinn's girlfriend). Besides, sex was supposed to be with someone you loved, and though she both loved and trusted the blonde implicitly, they weren't _in_ love yet.

Rachel cleared her head of that. Quinn wasn't ready, either, and she understood, so there was no need to worry about it. Even if the blonde was presently rocking her back-and-forth in a silent dance, eyes locked on the brunette's lips, and tongue swiping across her own. Rachel almost grinned, tilting her head up closer, but not touching. The hazel eyes darkened, and Quinn's grip tightened, and the brunette reveled in the effect she had on the blonde. This flirting thing was phenomenal.

In all her other relationships, flirting had been a non-issue. With Noah, it was non-existent. Literally. He just asked, point blank, 'Wanna make out?' And while his straightforwardness was refreshing, it wasn't exactly romantic. With Jesse…well, he just sort of leapt on her and started kissing her, and that was that. And then, when it came to furthering things, it was, 'We should do it.' Again, not exactly the height of sophistication. And Finn…well, the only time he'd flirted with her, it was a means to an end.

But with Quinn…it didn't have to go anywhere, and it wasn't because the blonde wanted anything from her. It was just because.

"Well," Rachel said at length, letting herself be swayed, "I don't think I have anything else you'd like, but I can—"

"Wait, what?" Quinn's brow furrowed, and her eyes focused back on the brunette's. "Don't you have one of those sweaters with the little animals on it or something?"

The swaying automatically came to a halt, and Rachel pulled her arms from around the blonde slowly.

"I…of course I do, but you don't—"

Quinn laughed. _Laughed_. Rachel didn't know what to do with that, so she just frowned up at her girlfriend in consternation, waiting for her to do something else. When she'd finally recovered, the blonde Dazzled down at her and caressed her bangs off her forehead. The way her eyes twinkled when she did it told Rachel she definitely liked that part of it.

"Oh, that explains a lot," Quinn said at last, smirking again. She kissed her forehead. "Baby, you have no idea how much it means to me that you worry so much about what I like or don't like, or-or whatever. But the thing is…I like _you_. And that means all of you—even the argyle." She flashed her a grin. "I don't want you to be fake around me."

Rachel stared. She couldn't help it—it was just habit. When she was processing a lot of information—and this was a _lot_—she had to stare. Quinn let her, stroking her hair idly as she seemed wont to do, and the brunette swallowed. No one had ever liked her like this before. Even Finn thought she was annoying and overbearing. But Quinn just…liked her? No adjustments to be made, no polishing to be done?

And, on a lesser note, Quinn called her 'baby.' Wow.

Rachel leaned upward—though the heels meant she didn't have to go on her tiptoes at all—and pressed her lips to Quinn's. The blonde responded immediately, cupping her cheeks and opening her mouth to the brunette. She took the territory gratefully, nearly melting with the pleasure of it all, but when her hands started wandering to the edge of Quinn's shirt again, she forced herself to tear away.

The brunette almost laughed when she saw the perfect pout on her girlfriend's lips, but instead she grinned, pecking her again.

"I'll be right back," she assured her, and bounced up the stairs.

XXXXXX

"Okay. Just…regular old me again," Rachel announced, fidgeting with her sleeves—that was better—as she came down the steps.

Quinn rose from the couch, and the automatic darkening of her eyes made Rachel's stomach flip. She smiled up at her and met her for a brief kiss, which she had to use a little tiptoe for.

"Why don't we just stay in tonight?" she offered cautiously. "We can watch a movie or something."

The blonde's lips quirked. "Sure."

The brunette's stomach flipped more as they eased onto the couch, and she knew immediately that wasn't going to be a movie. Just her and Quinn and heat, and even if it didn't go far, it was going to be fantastic. All the same, Rachel couldn't stop the butterflies from smacking their wings around in her stomach, and she anxiously placed her hands in her lap, still twirling the sleeves in her fingers.

"H-how did things go today?" she asked, and her voice was so soft she wasn't sure Quinn heard her.

Unlike Rachel, the ex-cheerleader seemed as cool as a cucumber. She shrugged, relaxing into the cushions as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And the brunette noticed that she had placed herself almost right up against the arm of the couch. Like she knew Rachel was feeling nervous.

"It was all right. My mom seemed to like the Shaws well enough, but they talked about politics for the most part," the blonde replied, rolling her eyes comically. "So I tuned them out. Duke missed you." She flashed another of those grins at her, and Rachel couldn't help a small smile. "I missed you."

And just like that, Rachel's nervousness melted away and her control snapped. She moved closer almost instantly, and Quinn welcomed her with a searing kiss, burrowing her hands in brunette locks. The diva didn't even know which part of Quinn to grab onto—she wanted to touch her everywhere at once, but since she couldn't, she settled for rubbing her sides and back, marveling at the feeling of her tight muscles moving beneath her hands.

Rachel scrambled to be closer, moving onto her knees just so she could bring herself nearer to Quinn's amazing lips and magnificent body and hot, hot heat. The blonde's hands had started to wander, easing down her neck and shoulders, rubbing over the expanse of her sides and sculpting her back. And just as she'd wanted to touch Quinn everywhere, now the brunette wanted _her_ everywhere, because it all felt so good.

Even the previous Monday hadn't brought them this far, but Rachel didn't care. She opened her mouth to Quinn when she felt the warmth of her tongue pressing to her bottom lip, and the blonde squeezed her hip before putting a bold hand on the back of her thigh. The brunette moved instinctively, clambering over her until she was straddling her, and the length of Quinn's torso against her was just _unbelievably_ good.

Quinn was massaging her thighs now, and Rachel once again marveled at how silky the blonde locks were as they slipped through her fingers. They parted with heavy pants, but the brunette didn't want to be away from her, so she pressed kisses along her girlfriend's cheek, angling downward until she hit her neck. Quinn let out a strangled moan at the feeling, and she wrapped her arms around her, pulling their bodies impossibly closer while Rachel burrowed her face in the crook of her neck.

Her skin felt so soft under her lips, and the brunette was curious to see if she tasted as good everywhere as her lips did. Quinn moaned again when Rachel sucked on the soft flesh of her neck, flicking out her tongue to get a taste—and she was automatically addicted. The blonde's nails dug into her back and, before the diva could try that again, she flipped them so she was on top and Rachel was lying back against the cushions.

"Maybe we should've gone out," Quinn mumbled before she took her lips again, easing down so she was lying against the brunette in all the right places, and Rachel never felt more rapturous.

XXXXXX

**A/N:** Before you ask…no, they don't do it. This is just the beginning of their couch makeout sessions. ;) Thank you all for your patience with me, and I hope this was worth the wait.


	20. Dinner with Daughters

**A/N:** Gah, I'm so(insert innumerable amount of 'o's here) sorry. I hope this is worth the (long) wait. This is where the T rating really starts to come into effect. I'd also like to ask you to vote on the matter of introducing a small Brittana subplot—yes or no. It would serve the Faberry, of course, and wouldn't take up too much time, but I thought I'd check anyway.

**Dinner with Daughters**

The next few weeks went by quickly for Rachel—almost too much so. Her previous summers had been filled with singing, classes, singing classes, musicals, and other various attempts to make herself feel busy and involved. This summer she actually _was_, and she never knew the hot summer months could pass by so quickly.

Some days were spent in the company of one or more of her three parents; usually shopping when it came to Shelby. They were taking it easy on the difficult questions and discussions, which would normally bother Rachel. She liked things to be out in the open, after all, and serious discussions were kind of her forte. But as she explained to Quinn, this relaxed, easy pace she and Shelby were taking with girls's days out and all was a nice change of pace. For now, she was happy to simply enjoy the older version of herself and get to know her.

It also might've helped that she finally had someone in her life who practically salivated at the chance to attend a musical along with her.

Many other days were spent with the glee club, or at least parts of it. Finn had rejoined the group after about a week of avoiding get-togethers where Quinn and Rachel would be (it was really never one or the other, after all), and things weren't quite as awkward as any of them expected. He acknowledged both with a nod when they arrived at Noah's party, and after that the three of them shared an unspoken truce. They were civil, but they stayed away from each other. No one was quite ready to cross the battle lines yet, least of all Finn. Rachel didn't mind waiting for her friend to come around; after all, she had a lovely consolation prize.

Rachel had spent so much time shopping with Shelby that she thought she'd tire of the trips the glee girls and Kurt insisted on taking, but it always turned out to be a blast despite her doubts. And one of her newest favorite activities was roller-skating. Mike had suggested it one day lounging by Kurt's pool at a party, seeing as they all sucked so badly at it, and since then it had become an almost weekly tradition for the glee clubbers to go to the nearest rink and work on their skills. Rachel had to admit that it was helping her with balance, which in turn aided her performance in her ballet classes.

Artie usually made a point of rolling circles around the slower skaters, which prompted Mercedes to threaten to bring a lasso one trip. He laughed until Santana mentioned having one in her possession. No one asked about that, and Artie dropped that particular habit pretty quickly.

The group as a whole spent many days at miniature golf courses and arcades (aka, the only activities all twelve of them could really get into besides singing, dancing, and roller-skating); Rachel wasn't as fond of the latter, but, at the end of the day, the triumphant grin on Quinn's face after she got a particularly high score at skee ball made all the noise and hassle completely worth it. It also helped that Quinn usually used her insane number of tickets to get a gift for her girlfriend. Her new bulldog, Bruno, received the honor of joining Barbra the lamb on Rachel's shelf of stuffed creatures.

Beth had also reaped the benefits of Quinn's unique talent. She now had a small, stuffed frog whose name was…well, it depended on who you asked, really. Noah insisted the frog's name was Bon Jovi, while Mrs. Fabray and Noah's mom called it Kermit. Brittany thought the frog was really a toad and its name was Trevor, and of course Santana indulged her. Quinn and Rachel, however, had decided from the beginning that the frog's name should be Jo. They shared a fondness for 'Little Women,' and felt it was only appropriate that Beth had a Jo. The Shaws agreed wholeheartedly.

Beth, of course, had dubbed the frog 'blahlalala.' No one argued.

On any day that Noah or Mrs. Fabray couldn't visit the Shaws with Quinn, Rachel came along, usually with Beth. Those days were at the same time joyous and heartbreaking. The Shaws were so perfect, so understanding about their situation, so accommodating, and so fun to be with. They were excellent with Beth, and Rachel could see they were falling in love with the little girl already. But the closer they were to the adoption, the harder things got for Quinn.

She'd started caring for her baby girl despite herself, and Rachel could easily see it. Quinn would slip and call her 'Beth' and then for the rest of the day refuse to call her by name. She would hold her daughter while she was sleeping and, when she thought no one was looking, place a kiss on her forehead and sing softly to her, almost in her ear. She'd smile when Mrs. Shaw held Beth, but there was sadness in her eyes, watching another woman be a mother to her baby.

Quinn insisted that she was fine with it. After all, it was an open adoption and the Shaws were more than eager to have her visit whenever she could. In fact, much to Mrs. Fabray, Noah, and Rachel's delight, they made it plain that they thought it was only healthy that Beth knew from the start that she was adopted and why. They wanted her to have plenty of contact with her birth parents, to know that she was loved—so much so that she was offered a better life away from the financial burdens of an unprepared teenager.

Quinn said she was 'fine' a lot these days. Rachel wondered if she was the only person who could see that, while Quinn would be okay with the aid of consistent involvement in her daughter's life, it was killing her that she wasn't going to be able to see Beth every day. She wouldn't be the one to teach her the alphabet, or see her first steps, hear her first word. The Shaws promised to videotape every moment Quinn and Noah missed, but it wouldn't be the same, and both Quinn and Rachel knew it. Beth was a part of Quinn's life now, and it was absolutely going to crush her to give her up, even to people she was as fond of as the Shaws.

Of course, Quinn didn't say anything about this to Rachel—or anyone else, for that matter. Whenever it was brought up, she went cold and quiet, insisted that she was fine, and changed the subject. Rachel didn't push it, because she sincerely did not want to be one of the people Quinn became a mute with, like Finn. It was eerie to watch her become impenetrable the way she did, and the brunette thought it might break her heart if her girlfriend ever treated her that way again. So she didn't push, no matter how much it hurt that Quinn wouldn't confide in her.

The closest she came to getting Quinn to open up was one afternoon at her house, when the blonde had gone to retrieve Beth's lunch. While Rachel was waiting, she noticed, not for the first time, that Beth had the same affinity for her hair as Quinn seemed to have. She would not stop playing with it, even when Rachel tried to wrest the locks from her tiny fists—that only elicited a sob of protest. The brunette replied with her best raised eyebrow and an 'oh, really?' before lifting her little shirt and laying relentless raspberries on the suddenly giggling baby's stomach.

Quinn had been watching the exchange from the doorway, and she was wiping her eyes furiously when Rachel noticed her. The brunette had tried to comfort her girlfriend, but the blonde had merely handed her the bottle of milk and disappeared for a good ten minutes before coming back as composed as ever.

This wasn't the only area in which the two weren't communicating, either, but the latter issue was entirely on Rachel. Quinn had mentioned several times that she would like to discuss her return to the Cheerios with her girlfriend, but the brunette was stalling. To be honest, she didn't know how she felt about Quinn going back to that herd of malicious sheep. Now that glee had a second chance, the thought of the blonde returning didn't tear her up quite so badly. After all, they would still have glee to keep them together and remind her girlfriend of the lessons she learned last year.

Then again, the Cheerios was a time-sucking activity. Quinn would be spending nearly all of her time with those girls, not one of whom looked on the glee club, or Rachel, with a friendly eye. Well, except perhaps Santana and Brittany, but two people out of that massive squad wasn't very reassuring. And though the blonde claimed she didn't care what others thought anymore, peer pressure could be a powerful thing, and just being around such a negative atmosphere so much might change Quinn's mind about the brunette she had come to care for and the club she had come to love.

But then, cheerleading also made Quinn happy. Rachel didn't really understand her love for the dangerous sport, other than the power and popularity it guaranteed its members, but she could respect it. And she certainly didn't want to be the only reason Quinn wasn't on the squad. She _never_ wanted to be the reason Quinn was unhappy.

It was all very confusing, which wasn't a surprise to Rachel, since _everything_ that had happened since Regionals seemed to come with some confusion.

This was slightly different, though. There was so much risk involved; Quinn could go back to who she once was, and then glee would lose a strong member, Rachel would lose her girlfriend. On the flip side, Quinn could be miserable watching her team compete from the sidelines yet again, grow to resent Rachel for it, and she could lose her girlfriend anyway. And then there was the third route. Rachel could give Quinn the go-ahead and, as soon as Coach Sylvester and the rest of the school found out about their relationship, she could be off the squad and back at the bottom of the heap faster than you could say 'homo.' And then Rachel could lose her girlfriend, either to resentment or a desire to try to work her way back up again, or both.

So Rachel was taking a very simple approach to the discussion: don't think or talk about it. Ever. It wasn't the most productive way to deal with it, she admitted, but at the moment it was the best solution she had, because she honestly couldn't bear the thought of losing what she had with Quinn.

Other than those (rather large) elephants in the room, their relationship was going splendidly. Quinn referring to her girlfriend as 'baby' had become a semi-regular occurrence, and though she was still formulating her own perfect pet name for the blonde, the brunette enjoyed hearing it come from pink lips wholeheartedly. It made her stomach flutter with butterflies every time.

Rachel was working harder at being herself around her girlfriend, worrying less about her reaction to what was commonly referred to as her 'crazy.' Quinn, in turn, proved herself trustworthy, only smiling in amusement at the brunette's rants and lectures, but not in the mocking way she once had. And when the singer approached her tentatively with a silver bracelet with half a heart for the charm, the blonde merely slipped it on and kissed her.

Rachel figured out pretty quickly that Quinn orchestrated certain dates for specific advantages. For instance, for dates at Breadstix, the brunette was guaranteed to dress up, and the blonde was not only able to open all her doors and pull out her chair, but also to show off in public that she had Rachel Berry on her arm. The singer wasn't entirely convinced this was something Quinn should be so proud of. Quinn was.

Dates to the movies guaranteed handholding and sharing of the popcorn bucket, plus a cuddling bonus if the movie was too terrifying for Rachel to handle. They went to see '_Predators_' at least six times before it 'lost its charm.' Which was code for 'you learned all the scary parts of the movie and stopped jumping into my lap.' Rachel was of the opinion that Quinn's transparent excuses were downright adorable. Quinn, of course, had _no_ idea what she was talking about.

The rare picnic meant feeding each other grapes, which always started out with endless giggles at how cliché it was and somehow ended with both of them clearing their throats and trying not to molest each other in the middle of the park. It also guaranteed sky gazing, as Rachel could not resist trying to guess the shapes of the clouds, and the perk there was that they always ended up cuddling on the blanket.

And, of course, when Quinn took her to see '_West Side Story_' at the community theater, it got her a dressed up, glowing, _very_ touchy Rachel with plenty of handholding and surprise kisses. The blonde spent the entire play smiling at her girlfriend, yet swore up and down when they went to get ice cream (and sherbet) afterward that she loved the play. She also not so subtly mentioned that she'd have to keep her eye out for more productions. Rachel wasn't complaining.

Then there was the ever-popular 'night in' date, which meant nothing but making out for hours, until their lips were so red and swollen they looked as though they'd had five gallons of fruit punch, and they were so out of breath they sounded like they'd run a 10K marathon. These dates only took place when Mrs. Fabray or Noah was able to watch Beth while Rachel's dads were out, but the wait was completely worth it to both of them every single time.

Rachel feared for some time that Quinn would soon tire of kissing her, but somehow she only seemed more enthusiastic every week, as though each time her appreciation for her girlfriend's lips increased. The brunette, again, wasn't complaining, because she couldn't get enough of Quinn, either.

The first time she got to second base with Quinn was entirely by accident. It had been another night in, and after two hazy, steamy hours of being pinned beneath the blonde and re-memorizing every inch of the skin of her neck, ears, and jaw (and Quinn returning the favor), Rachel was feeling foggy-headed, and the usually focused movements of her hands over her girlfriend's increasingly muscular back and sides had become sloppy and, well, _un_focused. It was only when the blonde on top of her peeled away from her lips with a raspy moan (that somehow turned the brunette on even more) that she realized where her right hand had slid to.

Her cheeks had gone from flushed to on fire and she found herself paralyzed with uncertainty. Finn had confided to her once that Quinn used to make him pray during makeout sessions, particularly when he did something out of line (like this _definitely_ was), and while at the time she was biting her cheek in order to keep from laughing…. Well, with her hand where it was, Rachel was just worried. So much so that she couldn't bring herself to appreciate the feeling of her girlfriend's more than adequate breasts under her hands.

"I-is this okay?" she had managed to stammer, hoping to save face, because Quinn probably wouldn't believe her if she said it was an accident. Really, it wasn't like Rachel hadn't thought about it before. With those breasts, who _wouldn't_?

To her relief, the blonde had simply met her eyes with a smoldering gaze, purred, "It's _more_ than okay," and pressed a rough kiss to her lips. Suffice it to say, second base with Quinn was spectacular, particularly when the blonde grew brave enough to return the favor. Rachel had never been more convinced than in those moments that she was completely gay, at least for one Quinn Fabray.

And this was definitely one of those moments. Her fathers were having their monthly date night, which meant an empty house at least until midnight (her fathers's dates tended to get a little…extravagant), and Mrs. Fabray had offered to spend the evening in with her granddaughter. Nobody brought up the fact that this was likely because it would be one of her last nights with Beth, though Rachel was certain everyone involved knew.

She felt a little selfish about it, but she didn't press when Quinn quickly changed the subject (i.e. occupied Rachel's tongue and started backing her to the couch), because…well, it had been so long since they'd had a night like this and she hadn't seen her girlfriend in such a good mood in about a week. She didn't want to ruin it.

So here she was, trapped beneath a gorgeous blonde and sucking eagerly at her earlobe while said blonde practically purred into her neck and bit down lightly. The brunette eased one hand beneath her shirt, caressing up her back and marveling again at the smoothness of her girlfriend's skin, while the other occupied itself gently massaging her breast. A moan of delight vibrated against her throat and Rachel felt a smile curl her lips, like it always did when she realized that _she_ was the one making Quinn feel this way, making her make those noises and—

Her brow abruptly furrowed when the blonde pulled back, uncertainty written all across her face, and Rachel immediately internally panicked. Just as she had started replaying her actions of the last sixty seconds in her head to be sure she hadn't done anything wrong, Quinn spoke.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you," she said, grimacing. "…Mom wants you to come over for dinner."

To cover up the fact that those words almost gave her a heart attack, Rachel removed her hands from her girlfriend and slipped out from beneath her, sitting up abruptly. Her hands instantly went to pet down her hair and readjust her clothing as she managed to get out in a semi-even tone, "It's good to know what you think about while we're doing that. Perhaps I won't have to take a shower after you leave today."

"You take showers after I leave?" Quinn asked from behind her, sounding far too delighted by this for Rachel's taste.

Did she not realize the gravity of the situation here? The brunette leveled a glare at the blonde, who had sat up as well, legs curled under her as she peered eagerly at her girlfriend.

"Quinn. Focus," she said sternly, and the blonde nodded.

"Right. Sorry." She cleared her throat. "And that's not what I think about."

When Rachel offered her a disbelieving look, Quinn smirked and shifted forward, massaging her shoulders lightly before resting her chin where a hand had been. Her arms snaked sneakily around the displeased singer's waist.

"Let me explain my thought process to you," she purred, and Rachel mentally cursed her for using that tone.

The blonde knew she couldn't resist that; and, as if to prove it, she found herself nodding weakly.

"I was just thinking, '_God_, that feels so good,'" she began, right against her ear, and the brunette personally thought making her voice sound that orgasmic was just plain unnecessary and cruel. "'It's a good thing we're not at my house; I think my mom would need therapy for life if she heard us…doing things.'" She emphasized her words with a kiss to her shoulder.

Rachel glanced over at the ex-cheerleader, who was smiling impishly, looking so pleased with herself the brunette was tempted to poke her nose just to see if she would change expression. She fought the urge to smile, flipping it into a severe frown, which only made that smug smirk grow.

"You're evil," the singer informed her flatly.

Quinn shrugged and kissed her briefly. "You love me anyway."

Before Rachel had a chance to respond to that bold comment, the blonde snuggled herself closer to her girlfriend and queried expectantly, "So? Will you come for dinner, or am I going to have to suffer through my mother's pout for the next week or so?"

The brunette hesitated. The reason for this being, of course, that she was trying not to hyperventilate, throw up, have a heart attack or nervous breakdown, or all of the above. Go to dinner with Quinn's _mother_? Quinn wanted her _Jewish girlfriend_ to attend a meal with her _Christian mother_ who watched her get kicked out for being pregnant? Mrs. Fabray may have known about their relationship, but Rachel literally hadn't seen her since that night at Quinn's house in June, at which point the woman probably thought she only had friendly feelings for her daughter. There was no danger in that. Who knew how her opinion had changed since then?

Mrs. Fabray might have thought Quinn was just going through a phase when she told her, and decided not to tear up her family all over again because of a silly infatuation. And now that Quinn was definitely (Rachel hoped) _not_ going through a phase or experimenting, her opinion might be a little different, and she might think it was all because of the brunette who was on the other side of the relationship.

Did she think Rachel was a Satan worshipper who had lured her daughter to the ways of sin? Was this some sort of test? Or, worse, a trap in which Mrs. Fabray planned to tie her to her dinner chair and then exorcise her? Should she wear a waterproof watch in case the Holy Water got on it? Should she be worried about the origins of the phrase 'bible-thumping' and prepare her fathers for her likely concussion?

Just as Rachel was having a particularly frightening vision of Mrs. Fabray throwing salt over her shoulder and yelling, 'The power of Christ compels you!', Quinn squeezed her arms around her waist and kissed the side of her head, distracting her.

"Baby, breathe," she coached—she'd gotten pretty good at noticing when her girlfriend was about to have a meltdown over the past few weeks, which Rachel could not have been more grateful for. She rather disliked hyperventilating. "I can practically hear the wheels turning in there. What are you thinking?"

"Suicide!" Rachel exclaimed, and Quinn gaped at her in alarm until she elaborated, "That's exactly what it's like! Suicide. I may as well be stepping into the lion's den, sailing down the river Styx, passing the point of no return, diving headfirst into the Chamber of Secrets, walking into Mordor, letting the Nothing swallow me who—"

"Okay, whoa, whoa, Rach," the blonde intervened, half-amused, half-bewildered. "Too many pop culture references, okay? Slow down." She squeezed her hand comfortingly, the other going to stroke through her hair. "What makes you think it's like suicide?"

"You do remember your parents, don't you?" the brunette replied, eyebrows shooting up. "Half the reason I thought I had no chance with you was because you're the Super Christian Cheerleader, and you didn't exactly become that way by means of divine intervention."

Quinn arched an eyebrow at the nickname, but let it go in favor of replying, "That was my father's influence. My mom is a lot more open-minded; she's been really supportive of me, and us. And I already told you she likes you."

"That was before I was dating you," Rachel retorted anxiously. "Now she probably thinks you being this way is all my fault and that I'm…violating you or something!"

She smirked. "Violating me?"

A glare was leveled her way and the brunette folded her arms. "It's not funny, Quinn."

She snorted and, upon receiving a huff of epic proportions, tightened her arms around her girlfriend to keep her from escaping.

"I'm sorry, but it is to me. I mean, if anyone's been doing any violating, it's me," she teased, pressing a kiss beneath her ear as if to prove her point. Rachel tried her hardest not to melt. "And Mom…she doesn't think you're some insane Satan worshipper that's seducing me to the dark side or whatever." At the brunette's wide-eyed stare, she prompted, "What?"

"Are you a mind reader or something?" she asked seriously.

Quinn grinned, kissing her frown away. "As I've told you before, I just know you. So listen to me, I'm very smart."

Rachel rolled her eyes at her cheeky grin, but leaned back into her embrace anyway, closing her eyes to the feel of the blonde's fingers running through her hair.

"Mom and I have had this discussion before, and she told me flat out that she once thought what we're doing was wrong." The brunette stiffened. "_But_, then my father cheated on her. She started re-analyzing everything she thought she had figured out, and yes, at first, she was a little uncomfortable with us. And then she saw how happy I am every time I come home from seeing you or talking to you on the phone and…she told me anything that makes me that happy can't be a sin."

Rachel tilted her head back farther onto Quinn's shoulder, meeting her smiling face and sparkling eyes, and said softly, "Really?"

A small nod was all she received in confirmation, and the brunette stretched her neck up to give her a lingering kiss. The hand in her hair cupped the back of her head, holding her in place for a moment longer before they parted and scooted farther back into the couch, the blonde still running her fingers through silky brown locks.

"I'm just…I'm nervous," Rachel confided at length. "I've never done the 'meet the parents' thing. I-I mean, I have once. Noah and I weren't together long enough for that to be necessary, and Jesse's parents weren't even around at the time we were together. I've only met Finn's mother, and she seemed to like me well enough, but I've noticed that parents don't tend to think the worst of their son's girlfriends. It's usually the daughter's boyfriend who is pegged as, to quote Daddy, 'the little jerk defiling my precious baby girl.'"

She felt Quinn stop breathing for a moment and glanced up to find her girlfriend looking downright horrified. She tried and failed to stifle a giggle.

"Do you see what I mean? You and I are officially in the same situation as a boyfriend would be," she explained, and the blonde nodded, still looking ghostly pale and not quite into the conversation anymore. "Sweetheart?"

Quinn jerked beneath her and met her gaze sharply, and Rachel smiled, pleased with herself.

"I think I just found my pet name," she said happily, pulling the blonde's arms tighter around herself.

She felt her chuckle. "You've been waiting to try that since I got here, haven't you?"

"Maybe," she replied coyly. "But as to the matter of my fathers and their opinion of you, well…I don't think you have to worry. Daddy told me if I ever considered going back to Finn, he would likely disown me, and Dad almost dies laughing every time you come over. They adore you."

"Oh," she said, and Rachel could hear the grin in her voice.

After she felt they'd had sufficient time to soak in the pleasant moment, the brunette grumbled, "I, on the other hand, have only met your mother once, and our interaction was limited to about two minutes."

"After which she absolutely loved you," Quinn reminded her. "And you're the one who's always saying the first impression is the most important part. It can only go uphill from here."

Rachel sighed, frowning. "I don't know."

The blonde kissed the side of her head and rubbed her thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand.

"I do know. You're going to be just fine, okay? Trust me."

XXXXXX

Quinn's house was way bigger than Rachel remembered it being. Had it grown since Tuesday? Was there such a thing as steroids for houses?

Rachel shook her head to clear it of her irrational thought pattern and swiped a sweaty palm on the skirt of the navy blue dress she'd—or, rather, Kurt had—chosen for the occasion. She had called him in a panic about two hours before she would have to leave for dinner, and it took her at least twenty minutes to get him to accept her apology for going back to 'grandler' clothing. Then she couldn't get him to shut up.

First he was chattering about wearing something conservative enough for meeting the parents, but provocative enough to tease her girlfriend. Once he finally settled on a knee-length dress with a modest cut and preferably a light sweater jacket of some sort, he took his sweet time deciding on the proper color. Apparently Rachel looked absolutely stunning in yellow, but it wouldn't be appropriate for an inside dinner. She was also smashing in red, but it was too evocative a color for a parent meeting. And so on and so forth until she threatened to drive to his house to smash every single one of his Diana Ross albums. He decided navy blue was the perfect color on the spot, along with a black jacket.

Rachel sighed heavily, gulping at the yellow button that would seal her doom for the evening. She was pretty sure she was sweating, which was going to ruin her makeup. Well, better sooner than later, in that case. She rang the doorbell and resisted the urge to bolt back down the sidewalk and speed all the way back home before shooting off a text to her girlfriend that she just wasn't feeling well.

Why was she putting herself through this torture again? Oh, yes. Stupid Quinn Fabray, and her (stupid) charming smiles, and her (stupid) pretty words, and her (stupid) delicious kisses.

And her stupid—

"Hey, baby!"

Rachel grinned as her girlfriend appeared in the doorway, the Dazzler coming out with ease, as it always seemed to around the brunette. _Did she just—yes, Ms. Berry, the sight of one Quinn Fabray did, indeed, pull you up mid-tirade. You are, as they say, whipped._

She groaned internally, but was yet again distracted when Quinn darted forward to steal a kiss from her, which Rachel swiftly dodged.

"Quinn! What if your mom sees?" she hissed, and the blonde promptly rolled her eyes.

"I think she's aware that her teenage daughter kisses her girlfriend sometimes," was the sarcastic reply.

"Still, we shouldn't waltz around advertising—"

"Rachel Berry, if I don't get my hello kiss, you're not getting in this house," Quinn interrupted, eyebrow arching and inner-HBIC peeking out so strongly the brunette was tempted to dart behind the nearest obstacle to avoid any oncoming slushies.

However, after calming herself and carefully considering the blonde's offer, Rachel shrugged instead and, smiling playfully, turned to step back down the walk with a bright, "Okay!"

The ex-cheerleader's hand grasped the singer's elbow before she could even get two steps away, and tugged her abruptly but gently back into the blonde's embrace. Rachel went to protest, but Quinn pulled yet another one of her fantastically dizzying mid-breath ninja kisses and the brunette promptly forgot that they were in her Christian girlfriend's house with her mother home. That is, until said mother cleared her throat.

The two peeled apart hastily, but while the brunette tried to backpedal straight out the door, Quinn was having none of it and only smiled at their interruption, holding her tight to her chest. Rachel felt like her cheeks were going to catch on fire.

Mrs. Fabray smiled gently, a hand over little Beth's eyes, much to the baby's displeasure. The little fists fought at her grandmother's fingers, and the brunette couldn't help a small smile at the sight of her girlfriend's daughter.

"Is it safe to uncover Beth's eyes now, dear?" Mrs. Fabray asked, voice riddled with amusement, and Rachel died a little inside.

"Mom, she's like two months old. She has no clue what we're doing," Quinn retorted with a smirk.

The oldest Fabray in the room rolled her eyes playfully, but uncovered Beth's eyes. She blinked baby blues in amazement at the world that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"Hello, Rachel," Mrs. Fabray said kindly, though the brunette still jumped. "It's nice to see you again."

"Y-you, too, Mrs. Fabray. You look well. Did you get a new haircut?" she asked hopefully, ignoring the muffled snicker coming from the blonde attached to her hip.

She smiled, almost mischievously. "Oh, yes, I did, in fact. How sweet of you to notice. If you girls will excuse me just a moment, I seem to have forgotten my limited edition thumping Bible in the kitchen."

Rachel's jaw dropped.

Until Quinn burst into gales of laughter, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle it as her eyes danced with amusement. Beth seemed to perk up at the sound of her mother's laughter, giggling as well, and Mrs. Fabray smirked at her daughter's girlfriend as she passed the baby over to the middle blonde. And Rachel felt sufficiently mocked by the Fabray family. She elbowed Quinn in the ribs as Mrs. Fabray winked at her and retreated to the kitchen—presumably _not_ to get her Bible.

"Well, you two certainly seem to have mended your relationship since the damage it was dealt over this past year," Rachel bit out, glowering at Quinn with folded arms.

The blonde grinned, toying with Beth's fists. "Oh, come on, that was funny."

"Oh, yes. I'm just _dying_." Her countenance took on a rapid switch as she smiled down at the baby. "Why, hello, baby Beth. How are you doing?" she asked, bending to kiss her forehead, which, of course, led to Beth hooking her fingers in her hair.

She glanced up at her girlfriend, who wore a pained smile, and shrugged as they headed toward the dining room, the brunette half-bending so as not to have her hair torn out. This night was turning out just lovely.

XXXXXX

Despite the joke at her expense, the evening actually did progress rather nicely. Mrs. Fabray asked endless questions about glee club and Rachel's various stage experiences and classes, though it wasn't out of a desire to interrogate. Rather, Rachel felt like the woman was just interested in her, much like Shelby. It was a chance to get to know each other, and the brunette was finding she rather enjoyed Mrs. Fabray's company. Quinn's encouraging smiles and gentle squeezes beneath the table aided her courage, and Rachel didn't feel quite so awkward when their relationship was brought up.

"My fathers have always raised me to be very open-minded," she explained after the oldest Fabray inquired politely about her seeming overnight transition in partners, "and as a result, I've grown up with the idea that love is the only thing that matters, not ethnicity, religion, gender." She shot a smile at Quinn. "Though I've never thought myself particularly drawn to my own gender, things changed when I realized my feelings for Quinn, and I've found our relationship more than satisfactory in every way. I must emphasize that that has nothing to do with the fact that she is female, and everything to do with the unparalleled happiness she gives me, just as she is. Something my male partners were never capable of succeeding in. Not even Finn."

Mrs. Fabray considered her for a long moment after this speech, and just as Rachel was starting to feel like a bug under a microscope, a warm hand squeezing her knee distracted her. Her gaze traveled to sparkling hazel eyes, and she found herself smiling tenderly at the obviously touched blonde. Quinn closed the gap between them to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, and Rachel couldn't help her beam when she pulled away, sweeping her thumb across her cheekbone.

The oldest Fabray cleared her throat. "Well, who's up for dessert?"

"Yes, please," Rachel cut in, smiling. "Everything has been delicious, Mrs. Fabray."

"Yeah, thanks, Mom."

"Would you care to help me, Rachel?" she asked as she stood, and the brunette faltered, glancing at Quinn.

The blonde just smiled encouragingly.

"Sure, of course."

She hurried after the older woman, glancing back to spy Quinn sneaking over to the cradle Beth was resting in before her attention went back to Mrs. Fabray, who was pulling the apple pie carefully out from the oven. She wrung her hands uncertainly.

"Should I retrieve some plates?" she asked uncertainly, and Mrs. Fabray smiled.

"Relax, Rachel. I've asked you in here to discuss the real reason I wanted you to come for dinner," she said gently, and the brunette's stomach started doing flip-flops, "not to do chores. You're a guest, after all." She began slicing the pie into even pieces. "Now, don't misunderstand me. I did want a chance to get to know you better, but tonight I have an ulterior motive."

"O-okay."

"I'm sure you're well aware that the adoption is in a week," she began softly, and Rachel's heart dropped.

She nodded solemnly. "Yes."

"And a week after that is Quinn's birthday," Mrs. Fabray continued, setting her knife down to face her daughter's girlfriend head on. "I'll be the first to admit that Russell and I were lacking in the celebration department, and I know this year is going to be especially rough on Quinn, considering how close it is to the adoption and, well, everything that has happened over this past year." She sighed, looking shame-faced.

Rachel nodded, venturing curiously, "Go on."

"Do you like whipped cream with your apple pie?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I don't eat animal products."

Mrs. Fabray's lips quirked in a smile. "Oh, yes, that's right." She cleared her throat as she began shoveling slices onto separate plates. "I know you care about my daughter. If you haven't proved that over this summer, tonight alone was enough to convince me of that."

The brunette nodded emphatically. "Very much. I would never hurt her."

Another smile. "I know. So, I thought that as the two women in her life who care the most about her—" here she winked "—we could plan a surprise birthday party for her together."

Rachel almost squeaked. "Really? Oh, gosh, I—that would be fantastic! I would _love_ to do that!"

Mrs. Fabray nearly showed teeth this time. "I thought you might enjoy that idea. Now, I didn't want Quinn to think I was snooping and steal your number from her phone, so if you wouldn't mind giving it to me later, it'll be much easier to brainstorm if she's unaware that we're talking."

For the second time that evening, Rachel felt her jaw drop—this time in awe of the older woman's sneaky thinking. A smirk slowly took place of the shock, and she asked playfully, "Are all the Fabray women this devious?"

She was answered with a smirk. "Just wait until Beth can talk. She'll have a finger for each and every one of us to wrap around."

The brunette grinned, but she was cut off from replying when Quinn announced, "It is getting really lonely out there. What's taking so long with the pie?"

She leaned her unoccupied shoulder against Rachel, and the singer reached to let Beth hold her hand as she rested in the nest of her mother's arms. She smiled fondly at the baby, who giggled at her and started flapping her index finger all over the place.

"Almost done," Mrs. Fabray answered, spraying whipped cream onto hers and Quinn's slices.

The younger blonde wasn't listening. Instead, she was looking on her girlfriend with a half-smile filled with both adoration and pain that she wouldn't voice, practically bouncing in her eagerness. When Rachel took note of her anxiousness, she glanced up from the game she was playing with Beth to voice her concern, but Quinn beat her to it. She smiled, and then whipped her head around to face her mother.

"Can we tell her now?"


End file.
